


Road to Recovery

by The_Crystal_Rose



Category: Dragon Ball Z
Genre: Angst, Aslyum AU, Awkwardness, Complete, Control Issues, Doctor/Patient, Don't Like Don't Read, Epiphanies, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fall 2017, Friendship, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Impulse Control, Infidelity, Masturbation, Medical Procedures, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Happy, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Original Character(s), Reconciliation, Recovery, Relapses, Role Reversal AU, Romance, Secret Relationship, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sex Addiction, Sex Is Not The Enemy, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Fantasy, Smut, TPTH Vegebul Smutfest, Triggers, Unorthodox Treatments, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Crystal_Rose/pseuds/The_Crystal_Rose
Summary: When word spreads that Bulma Briefs is a sex addict, she immediately checks herself into rehab in an attempt to save her family’s image all the while thinking she doesn’t have a problem. While there, she is met with Dr. Vegeta Ouji, a harsh psychologist with an unorthodox method of treatment. Their worlds collide and Bulma is faced with an extraordinary challenge: seduce the sexy, up-tight doctor before she is discharged. The road to recovery will certainly be interesting.





	1. Step One: Denial

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I was inspired by the Awards Category Role Swap and decided to make an asylum fic where Bulma is the patient and Vegeta is the doctor. I hope I do it justice. Not a whole lot of smut in this chapter, but we’ll get there. This was made for the TPTH Vegebul Smutfest for the fall of 2017. You guys should really check it out if you haven't! I'm an Admin who helped created it and the people who post to our Tumblr create some AMAZING art! Kudos to everyone who helps out and supports the fandom by doing so!
> 
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> **  
> **  
> [Click here for the TPTH Vegebul Smutfest Tumblr](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com)  
>   
> 
> I also post this to my personal tumblr [@lovethecrystalrose](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)!
> 
>  **WARNING:** Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!

**__ **

**_Prompt – Day 1: Soft Blushes_ **

There were many things she found extremely attractive, but her lust had reached unbearable levels. She wasn’t sure when things had spun out of control, but she knew right around the time she was caught cheating on her boyfriend that she had a problem. It wasn’t like she had meant for it to happen, but with his growing sports career and her climbing the ladder at her father’s company, time spent together had dwindle to an almost non-existent nature.

Yamcha had been a good man, someone who looked great beside her in the tabloids, and she would even go as far as to say he was a decent lay. But the tides had quickly turned when she discovered she had underestimated the stress of her new position. Many a nights were spent searching for the perfect relief and finally, she found one.

Sex.

Before, sex was good, a thing she used to pass the time when she was bored or lonely. She had never been in love, but one thing she did love was sex. It felt amazing to be connected to someone (and it didn’t matter if she knew their name or not), and to have that feeling of fullness that only a cock could satisfy. Sure, she had toys, but nothing was like the real thing.

The man she was with didn’t even have to be a good lay as long as she was riding someone or being mounted like a savage! Rough sex was her thing.

And Yamcha provided it…for a while.

But when there came a long period of time where she didn’t get to see him, a familiar ache would develop between her legs that was so severe she couldn’t ignore it. Her brain would tick, her skin would become sensitive, and she would be ultra aware of her hardened nipples pressed tightly in her bra. Suddenly, her clothes would be too tight and she would become flushed and sweaty.

She had tried to relieve this by taking one of her toys and locking herself in her room, but it was never enough. Dildo’s, vibrators, bullets, nothing seemed to satisfy her long enough. It was a battle she fought valiantly—and inevitably lost.

The day came when a thought struck her.

Release never came easy and often evaded her, but Bulma was not one to be deterred. If she was to be neglected by the person who was meant to offer the thing she so desperately desired, then perhaps it was time to seek desires elsewhere.

Though, with that thought guiltily in mind, she never meant to do what she did…

She had been out with a group of friends, downing drink after drink to numb the sensation that was creeping up in the apex of her thighs. Yamcha’s absence lingered in the back of her mind, but sometime after her eighth shot, he all but vanished from her thoughts as she allowed the music to wash over her and sweep her away with her lust in tow.

It was that night everything changed.

Dancing with her girls had been fun, but feeling strong, masculine hands cup her hips and gyrate with her to the music felt incredible! She had leaned back into a flat chest and rolled her waist so that her butt pressed against an obvious growing erection. The rigid length met the crease of her ass and teased her just so, and all she could suddenly think about was ripping her panties off, shucking his trousers, and  riding him until they both couldn’t walk straight.

When her hands danced behind her to wrap around the column of the strangers neck, she felt a nose press behind her ear and a tongue peak out to lick her lobe experimentally. Her limbs had shook with anticipation at a sure thing and the next thing she knew, she was heading to the back of the bar with her mystery man trailing behind her.

They shared multiple drinks and heated gazes, flirtatious touches and even the occasional petting below the belt before he whisked her into the bathroom. The night had become a whirlwind of grunts, pleas, and wet slapping of body meeting body, but soon, the ache that had plagued her subsided.

It wasn’t until she awoke the next day, pant-less and laying beside some strange man that she realized what she had done. She felt sore and looking over the bed she saw multiple open condom packets, and her eyes had bugged. The man was still asleep, his cock limp and resting against his upper thigh after a night of strenuous fucking, and Bulma had quietly gathered what little remained of her dignity and left.

It took time before she confessed—time and other instances—and when she did she was met with something she had never expected to see.

An intervention.

Her wild nights out had been exploited to the public—some of her one-night-stands recognizing her in an instant and using it against her. Soon, her face became plastered in the newspaper and local tabloids detailing her partying ways and even going as far as interviewing some of the men she had slept with. It didn’t take long for them to catch wind of her break up with Yamcha, but despite numerous attempts to catch a comment or two from the star baseball player, the man was tightlipped.

Which led her to her current predicament.

After sitting through a long and very awkward intervention, Bulma had—after much difficulty and arguing—agreed to admit herself into rehab.

She never once acknowledged becoming a sex addict; the mere thought sounded ludicrous. She reasoned silently that rehab was the only way to prove to the world that she was still Bulma Briefs, heiress to Capsule Corporation. A lame excuse, but it made sense in her mind.

Why should she have to be punished for enjoying something? It wasn’t like she was an alcoholic hell bent on destroying her liver. She just liked having sex.

But, she was never one to displease her parents.

So, Bulma went quietly in an attempt to mend the damage she brought upon the Briefs name. Yamcha had been there that morning as the car drove away, a silent support with an avoided gaze despite everything she did to him. Did she feel guilty? Yes. But did she regret it?

She hesitated in answering that.

Facing the man who asked her that very same question, Bulma’s mouth was agape.

“Miss Briefs?” he asked her in a deep, accented tone. His pencil was repeatedly tapping against the notebook he held in his lap, his legs crossed and his back leaning into the chair.

The pose seemed like it had stepped out of a magazine and Bulma’s mind worked overtime, causing a soft blush to cover her cheeks. As she sat there, she couldn’t help but to imagine all sorts of dirty things.

Her therapist’s hair was wild, like a black flame that defied gravity. Unlike the other doctors within the facility who were lanky and skinny, or tall and slender, he was muscular but short. Roughly her height, give or take an inch or two.

His eyes were dark and unamused as they stared her down, but she imagined them smoldering as they pinned her in place. He had a strong jaw and a nose like an aristocrat—and judging by the way he looked at her she assumed he came from money, like her.

A muscle in his cheek jumped and his eyes narrowed at her, making her heart _thump thump_ erratically in her chest. Her thighs pressed together when she cleared her throat and shuffled her gaze away from his as she succumbed to the conclusion she was quickly being turned on by his blatantly disapproval of her silence. What else could he do to make her want to climb his lap and grind?

_Stop it, Bulma!_

“Silence speaks just as loudly as words do, sometimes even more so, although I care very little for it,” he told her flatly as he proceeded to jot something down in his notebook.

She frowned at him, anger evident. “Excuse me?”

He grinned, but she could tell it had nothing to do with the fact that he was amused, more like he took enjoyment out of the fact that he was able to illicit an angry response from her. God, that was infuriating! And sexy…

She blinked at herself.

“Are you suggesting I refuse to answer due to a guilty conscious?”

“Quite the contrary,” he mused. “Although I find it curious that you would think that when I have suggested nothing.” He blinked up at her with a cocked brow. “Do you believe you have a guilty conscious?”

She stared at him, hands clenched in her lap. “I admit that I feel bad for doing what I did, but—”

“Then if it is so easy for you to admit that, why can’t you answer my question?”

Bulma folded her arms and eyed him up and down. “Is it every therapist’s job to piss off their patient or is that exclusive to you?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“Yes!” she screeched at him in disbelief.

“Why?”

Bulma scoffed. “This is like an interrogation!”

He shrugged. “My methods, you can say, are unorthodox, but effective.”

“Effective? I’m tempted to request a fucking transfer!” she threatened.

He sighed and eyed the clock before closing his notebook and standing. Bulma watched him in mild confusion as he gave her his back and made for his desk where he began to shuffle with some papers, looking for something. All-the-while, Bulma absentmindedly admired his backside and the way his pants hugged his figure, shaping his ass and giving her a perfect image to work with.

She pressed her thighs together harder when he bent across the desk, making the fabric strain, and she nearly groaned when she felt a rush of arousal seep through her underwear.

What would he do if she took her clothes off and offered herself to him?

Had that ever happened to him before?

It had to have, she thought briefly as her hands began to fiddle with the ends of her shirt, playing with the idea. The feeling in her stomach was almost unbearable and she knew she had to look a bit flushed, but she was sure that could also be associated with the fact that she was angry.

God, she loved angry sex!

“Here,” he spoke suddenly, making her squeak and jump. He was holding out a piece of paper—a checklist—and Bulma took it and skimmed it. “Here’s a list of mandatory meetings you have to attend—group, individual… Reading materials are at the bottom, and your schedule is on the back.”

“Schedule?” she asked, turning the paper over.

“Chores and responsibilities of every patient in the facility. It helps with the road to recovery.” She felt his eyes on her and she glanced up to see him observing her critically. “We’ll see how long you last.”

She bristled. “What does _that_ mean?!”

He chuckled and leaned against his desk. “While you are here, you are not allowed to touch yourself, engage in intercourse or foreplay with others, watch pornography, experience an orgasm of any kind or help others to achieve completion. If you do so, you must report it directly to me and there will be consequences.”

Bulma paled. “You mean, I can’t even…” She gestured with her fingers, moving them in a thrusting motion as words failed her.

He shook his head slowly and even though his face was expressionless, she saw a twinkle of amusement at her distress in his eyes. He was a bastard!

“And if you are ever aroused, you need to tell me. Every time.” He was serious!

What a fucking sadistic bastard!

She growled and moved to the edge of her seat, stopping the groan in her throat when the movement made the clenching in her lower region worse. So. Much. Worse.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow,” he dismissed her. “Your house rep will show you where you’re staying and where to report in the morning.”

He said nothing more as he stared at her expectantly, making things feel awkward for her as she stood. She subtly glanced behind her to make sure there was no obvious fluid left behind from her arousal because there was no way in hell she was going to tell him she was fucking turned on by his directness. When she saw none by her quick glance, Bulma made for the door, ready to be rid of his frustrating and alluring presence.

That is, until he cleared his throat.

She paused, her back stiff as she pivoted slowly on her heels to face him again.

His dark and perfectly plucked brow was cocked and his mouth was set in a thin line as he said, “I believe there was something you forgot.”

She frowned at him. “No…?”

Without saying anything, his eyes slowly drifted down the front of her body to the rigid way she held her thighs together and he looked back up at her as if to say _well?_

Bulma was mortified—and greatly turned on!

Huffing, she shifted from foot to foot, the words not wanting to form, but her body wanting to launch itself across the room and show him exactly what it was he wanted her to say. It was his fault, she reasoned.

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Bulma snapped.

He nodded with a slight smirk—a devilish smirk that spoke he took more enjoyment from this than he should’ve as a therapist.

“Fine!” she bellowed rather loudly. Her hands were gesturing wildly as she continued her tirade, “I’m fucking turned on by you! I want to pin you to your fucking desk and ride you until we’re both fucking blue in the face! Do you have any idea how fucking hot it was to listen to you scold me and stare at me the way you did? And I have no fucking idea why! I hate people like you, but all I can fucking think about is how large your cock has to be and how good it would feel if you just shoved it inside me! There, are you happy now?! Are you happy to know how much of a fucking pervert I am?!”

Silence followed, long, steady, and uncomfortable where it was nothing but their eyes on one another. Until his drifted past hers and Bulma stilled.

_Oh please, God no!_

Turning, Bulma was faced with a petite black haired girl staring at her awkwardly, a blood red blush covering her face and neck. As quickly as it had come, her arousal vanished and was replaced with a deep sense of embarrassment that she was sure she’d die from.

She swallowed heavily and greeted nervously, “Hi…”

“Miss Briefs, this is Miss Chi-Chi Oxlie, your house rep. She’ll be showing you around.” Her therapist’s introduction was very nonchalant, like her outburst and this girl’s witnessing was an everyday occurrence he was used to. It did not help whatsoever.

The young girl gave her a small wave, her eyes quickly skittering away as she stuttered, “I-I’ll g-give you s-some time!” With that, she turned tail and ran back into the hall, disappearing from sight

Bulma’s eyes closed and her hands fisted at her side. “Shit…”

Behind her, she heard, “Just because you are a sex addict doesn’t make you perverted.” Her eyes snapped open and she glared in his direction in surprise. “Although I would say you are quite the vulgar woman.”

Her mouth hung open. “You demanded I tell you!” She defended.

He shook his head. “It is your responsibility to be honest with me, however I did not expect you to be quite so…informing. Although, I can safely assume you will not be engaging in acts of self-completion tonight judging by your level of embarrassment,” he mused rather harshly. He pushed off from the desk and approached her, his hand finding her shoulder—his finger rather—and giving her an encouraging nudge in the other direction. “You’re dismissed.”

Bulma stumbled out of the room, eyes wide on him; perplexed, confused, and irritated at his tone—like he was royalty and she was a lowly servant who had overstayed her welcome. She flinched as he slammed the door in her face, the frosted window of the door reading _Doctor Vegeta Ouji, MD_.

 _MD must stand for massive dick_ , Bulma thought to herself as she huffed under her breath. She sighed and made for the hallway.

 

* * *

 

Later that night found Bulma lying on the hard surface of her very flat bed. The sheets were crisp and starchy—the itchy kind that did not feel good against naked skin and unfortunately for Bulma, she enjoyed sleeping naked.

Yet, that mattered little as she turned a stink eye on her new roommate—her house rep from earlier. She knew little of Chi-Chi, deciding that after their incident within Dr. Ouji’s office that any time spent together was best kept to a minimum until the awkwardness passed. So, after the tour and explanation of her schedule, they had parted ways.

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea.

After leaving her evaluation, her arousal that she felt while ogling her new doctor had resurfaced with a vengeance. She could feel the tightening of her muscles and her clit begging for attention, and as much as Bulma wanted to indulge herself, she had fought valiantly.

She knew her doctor doubted her efforts and believed she would give into temptation—she was hell bent on proving him wrong.

That is, until her cruel mind decided to provide her the images of Dr. Ouji’s backside as he bent over the desk, or whenever he would switch legs while sitting and she would get a good outline of his package straining his pants. As much as she loved fantasying about how large a man was, Bulma couldn’t help but be attracted to this one’s voice—his accent foreign and sophisticated.

Suddenly, she replayed parts of their conversation in her head and unbeknownst to her, her hand trailed down her stomach and began to tug at the end of her tank top. She wore no bra beneath her shirt—she absolutely despised them—so when she finally divest herself of the constraints she had gasped at the sensitivity of her rosy nipples.

And now, her one hand itched to seek them out while the other traveled beneath her panties, heading straight for the part that begged for the most attention.

By the time Bulma realized what she was doing, she had three fingers buried inside her and her thumb and forefinger of her other hand tugging harshly on her left nipple. It was too late now, she groaned to herself. Vegeta Ouji was right about her.

She had absolutely no self control.

He may not have come right out and said it, but he implied it with his tones and gestures. She could read between the lines. And at first if you don’t succeed…

“Gah!” she moaned quietly as her hand picked up its pace. Her eyes peaked over to her roommate to find her fast asleep and taking advantage of the moment, Bulma spread her thighs further apart and spread the moisture below before dipping back inside roughly. What she wouldn’t give to seek her doctor out and offer herself up on a silver platter!

She’d doubt he’d go for it—he acted like he had no sense of adventure and appeared to be extremely sadistic in his sense of humor, especially for a doctor.

But, just as Bulma reached her pinnacle, her back arching off the sheets and her mouth falling open to quietly moan her doctor’s name over and over, a thought came to her. She lay panting on top of the bed, her eyes staring wide at the ceiling before a goofy smile spread across her face.

If she were to spend the next several months in this fucking rehab facility, then she might as well make the most of it. And her first order of business was seducing her therapist before she was released.

* * *

_To Be Continued in Day 2: Heated Glances..._


	2. Stage Two: Brazen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: One scene kind of got away from me and my fingers refused to stop typing, so I just went with it. I hope it isn’t boring. I want this story to be more than smut. And thank you for the lovely responses on both Tumblr and AO3! I honestly didn't expect to get anything back from this! Enjoy :)
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> **  
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> [Click here to visit TPTH Vegebul Smutfest!](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com)  
>   
>  **  
> **  
> [Click here to visit my Tumblr!](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)  
>   
> 
>  **WARNING:** Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!

 

**_Prompt – Day 2: Heated Glances_ **

“Did you sleep well?”

Bulma hummed as she glanced over her tray of food to her house rep, Chi-Chi, her eyes glazed over from lack of sleep. She couldn’t even find it in herself to blush when she admitted, “No, I didn’t.”

Truth be told, after her first round of finger fucking last night, Bulma had went to town on herself and when she began to get too rowdy, she had slipped away from bed and locked herself in the bathroom, making sure to turn the faucet on as her moans let loose.

So no, sleep did not come to her so easily last night.

“I didn’t my first night either,” the girl offered with a smile. There was still some awkward tension, but thankfully it was starting to drift away with the new day.

Bulma doubted they were even remotely talking about the same thing. But still, she said, “Must be a common occurrence around her.”

“It depends,” Chi-Chi spoke as she dabbled with the food on her tray.

Bulma eyed her own with a grotesque expression. Scrambled eggs that looked more like porridge and porridge that looked more like greek yogurt. The only thing that appeared edible was the partially burnt piece of toast on the wayside of her plate. She nibbled on it and sighed. Her stomach churned unpleasantly.

“Listen, about yesterday,” she began as she swallowed, deciding it was best to address the issue head on. “I don’t want you to think I’m like that all the time, he just really pissed me off—”

She was cut off by a grin and a chuckle. “Dr. Ouji is notoriously known for pissing his patients off. The only person he has yet to get to is Goku,” she points to another table and Bulma glances over to see a spiky haired kid cheesing from ear to ear as he chatted animatedly with the group that surrounded him.

Bulma harrumphed. “They must either have a mutual respect for each other or the guy is dumb.”

“Goku isn’t dumb,” her new friend defended with an angry hint in her eyes. “Too trusting maybe and definitely a glutton for punishment, but I wouldn’t describe him as dumb!”

Biting her lip, the blue haired girl shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” The glare had yet to be removed from her friend’s eyes and she continued, “I just meant that Dr. Ouji has a tendency to be a bit… I don’t know… harsh?”

“He’s abrasive and he’ll call you on your bullshit, but he gets paid to do what he does for a reason,” Chi-Chi informed her reasonably.

Bulma scoffed. “I thought therapists were supposed to be gentle and coax the answers out of you at your own free will, not embarrass you into screaming your secrets at them out of anger and frustration!”

The black haired beauty laughed outright at her and shook her head before standing and gathering her tray. “If that’s what you think then you checked yourself in at the wrong facility!”

She watched the girl leave, throwing her tray out before pivoting to head to the table where the spiky haired boy sat and giving him a cute smile and a wave. With pursed lips, she muttered to herself, “I’m beginning to realize that…”

 

* * *

 

It was nearing nine in the morning and Bulma was walking the halls towards her first assignment, her hands clenched in the front pouch of the hoodie she wore. Today she had decided it best to wear baggy clothes after yesterday’s debacle—it was just safer.

As Bulma approached the back door that led out into the courtyard behind the large facility, she paused. Already she was feeling the restless need for relief and she hadn’t even done anything yet. There were no TVs in any of the rooms, all the electronics locked up in the media room aside from the computer lab that was only offered as special privileges. She hadn’t had time to check the library, but Bulma was almost positive they would have nothing that would be able to help her supply the images she needed—not like she really needed the help, but it was nice to look at something.

Her hand curled over the knob of the door and she hesitated, hoping that whatever partner she had for her chores that morning was of the same sex so she was less tempted.

But the universe had yet to prove it was on her side and as she pushed the door open, she was greeted with a familiar grin she recognized from earlier, but only saw at a distance.

“Hi!” the boy greeted enthusiastically. “You must be Bulma, the new recruit! I’m Goku!”

Her shoulders deflated.

_Shit!_

“Hi,” Bulma waved, her tone lower and not as excited. She jerked back when his hand thrusted a push broom her way and she took it reluctantly, staring at it oddly. “Okay…”

“Here!” he smiled when he offered her the instrument. She turned her eyes to his to find him practically bouncing on his feet and she couldn’t help but allow a gently laugh burst forward at his behavior. It was kind of endearing to see someone so excited and happy—his attitude rubbed off on her a little. “It’s been so long since we had someone famous stay here!” he chattered off.

Bulma tilted her head. “What?”

Goku at this point had turned his body and began to push his own broom around, cleaning the debris that laid about. He hazard a glance back at her and smiled. “You’re Bulma Briefs, right?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Everyone knows you! You’re family owns Capsule Corporation! It didn’t take long for word to spread that you’d be coming here. Everyone was in a fit before you arrived!”

“Really?” she mused flatly as she pushed her own broom with one arm, more engaged in the conversation than the task.

“Yup!” He stopped his ministrations and faced her, his expression turning solemn—almost embarrassed—as he leaned forward. “So, is it true?”

Her brow puckered. “Is what true?”

“That your…”

Oh… Bulma glanced down at the ground. “It must be if I’m here.”

“What do you mean?”

Her confusion was instant. “What?” she felt herself ask.

Looking back up at him, his head was tilted to the side like a bemused dog and she almost guffawed at the sight…almost. “Is it true your family started the Grant Program for the Mentally Disturbed, Disordered, and Disabled?”

Bulma’s eyes widened at his question, her mouth falling open when she realized she misunderstood and thought he had been asking about her reasons for being committed. Speechless, she nodded.

She was surprised his face didn’t break from the beaming smile he threw at her. Then, suddenly, his broom was cast aside as he approached her, his arms finding their way around her and engulfing her small form in a warm and tight embrace. She gasped and stiffened from the contact—it felt way too good…

“I just wanted to thank you for that!” he exclaimed. “If it wasn’t for your family, I wouldn’t have been able to afford to come here! You’re paying my way and I will never be able to repay you!”

His words, though sincere and grateful, sounded distant to her as she felt herself slowly melt into his arms. Her body began to mold itself to his, every plane attempting to collide and rub against his. He felt strong and soft and his hands were holding onto her with a gentle grip that she easily pretended was desire.

He smelled good too.

Unable to stop it, Bulma felt the rush of her arousal spring forward and her leg bent and began to wrap itself around the back of his leg like a snake coiling around its prey. She just needed five minutes, that’s all. Five minutes would be enough to get her through the day…right?

_No, no!_

She couldn’t, though. The kid was pouring his heart out to her in gratitude and all she could think about was fucking the obvious virginity from his very being and making him see the flames of hell as they performed the perfect acts of sin together as one.

So, Bulma did the only thing she could think of.

She shoved her hands against him as hard as possible and screamed, “Get off me!”

Goku backed up instantly, his hands held up in the air in defense with his eyes wide in alert! “Sorry, sorry!” He looked very apologetic as words burst forward. “Did I hurt you?! Please tell me I didn’t hurt you! I have a problem with strength and I have a tendency of hurting people without realizing it!”

Bulma was panting and facing away from her, one hand on her hip and the other pressed on the flat planes of her lower stomach, trying to quell the fuel that ignited the fire. Her eyes fell closed and she tried to think of every possible unsexy thing there was and it seemed the only thing that helped was forcing herself to cry the arousal away.

As the tears flowed, she felt Goku’s hand fall to her shoulder and she jerked away. “Please, don’t touch me!”

His hand fell away like he had been burned. “I’m sorry… What can I do? Should I get the nurse?!”

She shook her head and turned a pleading gaze on him. “No, please! She’ll get Dr. Ouji and I can’t deal with that now!”

Dawning realization seemed to slowly seep into his eyes and he maintained his distance, but stayed close enough to offer support. Quietly, he asked, “Is it because I hugged you?”

Bulma felt herself shiver and she crossed her arms to ward off the chill her body seemed to fall into. It was very angry it had absolutely no release and all her pent up frustration had now sunk to her bones.

“Yes…” she muttered saddened.

“I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking of your… well…”

Her lips thinned. “My condition?” She scoffed bitterly. “Does everyone know about that too?”

His eyes fell to the ground guiltily. “It’s been the popular topic lately.”

“Great.” She wiped viciously at her eyes.

“Hey,” he offered with a soft cheerfulness. “Who cares? So you’re a sex addict! Everyone here has their problems! I love to fight! I don’t care who knows it. It’s just a part of me.”

Bulma turned her head to look him up and down. There was probably a good five feet of space between them, but she could still remember every single muscle pressed against her. She believed it when he said he liked to fight.

“So you have anger problems?” she asked curiously.

“What?” he laughed. “No! I just like the feeling of my fist connecting with someone’s face!” He demonstrated with a slow right hook and a click of his tongue as he pretended to punch someone. “The thing is, once I start fighting someone, I have a problem stopping. I put my best friend in the hospital once—almost killed him. I don’t remember what Ouji called it, but I feel drunk whenever I’m beating the shit out of somebody. It feels good.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

She stared at him wide eyed.

_Holy shit, this guys is nuts!_

“Why do you think that is?” Bulma frowned at herself. _Rude, B!_ “Sorry, that’s none of my business…”

Goku shook his head and bent down to grab the abandoned push broom and continued his task. “I don’t mind. Ouji said its part of the healing process. Before my grandpa adopted me, my dad used to beat my brother and I. He’d make us fight in these rings he’d organize in a warehouse on the outskirts of West City. He’d place bets on us knowing we’d win. By the time I was seven, I was almost undefeatable—the only person to beat me was my brother. When the cops got involved, my grandpa stepped up, but he passed away when I turned fifteen.”

“Wow… I’m sorry,” Bulma breathed as she leaned on her own broom.

He waved her off and continued to sweep. “Ouji made me realize fighting is my way of coping with it all—I guess I blamed myself for everything that happened to me.”

She observed him in a new light as he said this. He still wore a grin, but it was serene—peaceful—as if the memory of his brutal past didn’t disturb him anymore. It was nice to witness.

“Why would you blame yourself? No father should ever have done what yours did to you.”

Goku leaned the broom against the wall and started on the trash cans as he explained, “My family coveted strength and you may not know it by looking at me,” he glanced down at himself briefly as he lifted a bag from the can, “but I am the shortest one in my family, which ultimately makes me the weakest. Or so I believed.”

Bulma’s eyes softened. “Your dad called you weak and you believed you deserved his abuse because of it?”

He nodded. “I wanted him to be proud of me, but Radditz was the favorite, not me. I was always too soft.”

“Radditz is your brother?”

“Yeah,” Goku breathed lightly as he swung the garbage bag on top of the cart they had. “He’s in prison right now.”

“And your dad?” At that, the boy became quiet and Bulma quickly understood why. She cringed. “I’m sorry. I have a bad habit of putting my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“No, its fine,” he said immediately. He cleared his throat to dispel the awkwardness and tilted his chin towards her. “What about you?”

Bulma felt fear well up inside her at the prospect of indulging in everything she wanted to avoid. But, then again, it didn’t seem fair not to talk about it when he had so willingly spilled without a second thought.

She groaned inwardly and said, “If I’m going to talk about my issues, I need to do something to keep myself distracted…” She gather her broom up and started on the opposite side of the fountain, creating a good distance between them.

“You know about my family, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard not too.”

She chuckled as she cleaned. “Well, then you must know that my dad plans to retire soon and he’s been training me to take over.” Push, sweep, push, sweep—the rhythm was oddly soothing. “All this time working under him, I guess I never quite expected exactly what it was he did and I took him for granted. So when he began stacking more of his responsibilities onto me, I kind of cracked under the pressure.”

“Is that why you became a sex addict?”

Bulma glared at the ground. “I don’t think I’m a sex addict. I just enjoy the act; it’s as simple as that! Don’t you enjoy sex?”

Another moment of silence followed and she peered over to find him blushing brightly and fiddling with the ends of a garbage bag as he tied it to the can.

It dawned on her that her suspicions were correct.

“Oh my God! You  _are_ a virgin!” she exclaimed without thinking.

“What?” he screeched. “No I’m not!” It was so reflexive even she could tell.

How cute!

She felt herself grinning stupidly. “Yes, you are! I mean,” she felt herself laughing, “there’s no shame in it! But I’m just surprised!”

He looked to be in pain and he whined, “Is it that obvious?”

“Oh-ho-ho!” she guffawed heartedly before wiping at her eyes. “It wasn’t when I asked, but afterwards, yeah!”

“Dammit,” she heard him mutter.

She shook her head, unable to suppress her amusement. “Why does that bother you so much?”

“Because I’m twenty-three and I’ve never had sex!” he confessed with a red face. “It’s hot out here…”

It was almost November.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Bulma told him, still grinning from ear to ear.

“You definitely don’t look sorry,” he grumbled at her as he tossed another bag onto the pile. It was said in a huff, but she saw his mouth working against a smile. Good.

She let out a long breath to calm herself. “Haven’t you ever thought about experimenting?”

He shrugged.

“What does that mean?” She mocked his shrug. “Yes or no?”

“I don’t know! How do you know you even want that kind of thing?”

Her eyes bugged out of their sockets at him. Oh, poor, naïve little Goku. This universe was incredibly cruel to place her in this position.

She could already feel the stirrings happen.

“Well, uh…” Bulma stuttered, her eyes trained on the broom in front of her. Push, sweep, push, sweep. The pattern was oddly like thrusting— _in, out, in out_ —oh for fucks, sake!

“I guess, typically you need to be…uh…physically attracted to someone in order to want to engage in intercourse,” she explained, feeling her face flush. She sounded like a fucking Health Teacher! “You do know how it all works, right?”

_Please put me out of my mercy! I did not mean for this to get this far!_

He nodded vigourously. “Yup! The penis goes into the vagina and then you’re supposed to provide stimulation to make both partners ejaculate. When I asked Ouji how you’re supposed to create stimulation, he called me a fucking clown…”

 _He would_ , she thought. Clearing her throat she said slowly, “Well, when that happens, there’s…you know…” her eyes rolled skyward in disbelief at this conversation. “Thrusting involved.”

Goku’s eyes lit up and his mouth turned into an ‘O’ shape in understanding. When he appeared to be ready to ask her another question, she held her hand up and begged, “Can we please stop talking about this? If you don’t mind?” Her voice was wavering and she didn’t even notice her hand was shaking, or that her other hand was currently stroking the handle of the broom stick as if it were a cock.

God, she needed something!

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure!” He pointed to her trembling hand and said, “You might want to eat something, you’re shaking.”

Bulma eyed the offending appendage before realizing what her other hand was doing and she dropped the broom stick as if it were on fire.

_Fuck my life!_

 

* * *

 

Group therapy was a joke.

Bulma had remembered watching those TV shows that always stereotyped AA support groups where people would stand up and introduce themselves and their disease, and she had always wondered if that was how it worked. But sitting in this large room that had bay windows that overlooked the courtyard she had previous cleaned made her realize this was nothing like TV.

It was nothing like TV because it was happening to her.

Everyone was sitting in a large circle, but unlike the shows where only metal chairs were provided, they were all in black armchairs designed for comfort and safety. And at the center of their circle was the man himself—the very person who haunted her waking thought and dreams since she first laid eyes on him.

She hated how it seemed like he was sculpted after a God—he held himself proud and true, and had an _“I don’t give a fuck”_ attitude combined with an innate need to help people. The man was mystery embodiment that made it all the more appealing to want to fuck him.

And fuck him she would.

Hopefully.

It was hard to force her eyes away from him, but she had to pretend his presence didn’t bother her. After last night’s extreme confession, Bulma knew there would come a moment where she would have to face him one on one and talk about her desires to be with him.

But then again, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?

Wait, what was being said?

“It was three against one, but I had the knife, so…” the blonde shrugged, looking neutral as she spoke to the group.

“And what? You stabbed them all?” someone from the other side of the circle exclaimed skeptically. “I call bullshit!”

“Fuck you!” the girl bellowed at him.

He flipped her off. “Fuck you! You’re story changes every fucking time we’re in here! How the hell do you expect us to believe you if you can’t get one story straight?”

She pointed at him, “Says the man who’s always like _‘Oh I promise, not another hit, I’m through with it!’_ and then you fucking show up at group high as fuck! Where are you getting the drugs, you pack mule?!”

“Enough!” Dr. Ouji slashed a hand through the air, cutting off anymore retorts.

Bulma stared at both of them, her legs curled underneath her and her arms resting atop her knees. Perhaps she should take back what she had thought about group…

She chanced a glance to find Dr. Ouji with his head bent and his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He looked so tense—she knew how to deal with tension.

“Sometimes I wonder how Dr. Boardman deals with you guys all at once,” she heard him mutter.

“Yeah, why are you here, Ouji?” she heard Goku ask from somewhere off to her side.

The man tossed the twenty-something year old a glare and growled, “It’s _Dr. Ouji_ , you buffoon! And she had to take the day off rather suddenly.”

That got the group in an uproar and Bulma was quickly figuring out that this Dr. Boardman was a fan favorite. Yet, as much as she was curious about the mysterious doctor, her eyes hadn’t left Ouji sitting there, hunched over.

Deviously, she murmured to him, “You look tense.”

His eyes snapped to hers, but he said nothing.

Charmingly, she told him, “You should relieve the tension before it strains your muscles.” With that, she switched her position, making sure to spread her legs a bit before crossing them again, her fingers dragging along the column of her neck.

His heated gaze nearly melted her to her seat and he knew exactly what it was she was doing.

Even with the group yelling at each other, it was strange that they were so in tune with one another and Bulma bit her lip before allowing her other hand to slide up her thigh, caressing the skin playfully, before dipping between her folded legs and hiding her fingers from sight. It was ballsy to do this in a crowded room, but Bulma was a ballsy woman.

And Ouji wasn’t stopping her.

Though his eyes hadn’t followed her fingers—they were gazing directly _into_ her—and it might’ve been her imagination, but did he swallow?

No, probably not.

Bulma desperate mind was playing tricks on her, but she continued to play, the tips of her fingers gently cupping and molding the outer folds of her fabric covered center. It was exciting to do this in public, to do this while being watched, and Bulma stared him down while she took it a step farther.

Her fingers found her clit and rubbed, her pants already soaked, but her chest now heaving with arousal as she teased herself amongst the crowed with her therapist watching her.

 _Please, give me a sign you want this_ , she thought to herself as she adjusted in her seat to give him a better view of her ministration. His eyes hadn’t left hers, hadn’t even tried to drop to where her hand was, but her knew—oh he knew!

And then, it happened!

It was quick and subtle, but Bulma caught it.

His eyes dropped to where her hand was rubbing slowly, those pupils zooming in like scopes before he looked away and stood.

“You’re dismissed for the day. Dr. Boardman will be back tomorrow, so to make up for the lost time in group, you’ll get an extra hour of work.” Everyone had groaned miserably, but Bulma didn’t. She was still watching him like a hawk stalked its prey.

And his eyes finally glanced at her out of their peripheral as he passed and she knew.

When everyone had stood to prepare for the extra chores, Bulma was already heading for the door, following the target of her desires.

 

* * *

 

It was the perfect opportunity, she reasoned. As everyone scattered to work, Bulma knew their moment together wouldn’t be interrupted. And so, she stood outside his office, hand poised to knock.

 _Tap, tap, tap_ , her knuckles bounced off the wood and she waited with feigned patience.

She was not disappointed.

The door opened and without waiting for a greeting, Bulma pranced inside and faced him with her hands at her side.

Ouji eyed her with an unreadable look and it almost made her nervous.

“I have a confession to make,” she told him, her tone breathy.

The door immediately closed at her words. There was one thing she knew about her doctor—he took his job serious.

“What is that?” He folded his arms.

Slowly, she approached him, her hips swaying from side to side. “You said that if I were to ever touch myself or if I ever felt aroused, I have to tell you, right?”

“Hm.”

With pursed lips and a shy expression, she gazed up at him through her eye lashes and whispered, “Last night, I fingered myself at the sound of your voice.”

They stood there staring at one another for a long period of time—a standoff with Bulma waiting for him to crack and Ouji wanting her to buckle beneath his gaze from embarrassment.

“And also,” she broke the silence. “I’m aroused…right now.”

“I couldn’t have guessed,” he whispered back to her.

“You said that if I broke the rules, there’d be consequences…” Brazenly, she asked, “Can I request a spanking?”

“Corporeal punishment has been outlawed,” Ouji told her, his accented tone husky and deep.

Bulma shrugged. “I don’t mind if you’re rough—I won’t tell anyone.” And then, she began to peel her pants off, her bold actions surprising even her, but she went with it.

She stood in her shirt, her pants pooled at her ankles and her panties following suit seconds later. Like before, his eyes were trained on her face, but she could tell he was having a difficult time not looking.

“If I ask nicely, will you touch me?” She saw his jaw clench and couldn’t help but admire the fact that there was a slight bulging in the front of his pants. “Or perhaps you prefer to watch? Either way is fine with me.”

Finally, his eyes fell to her exposed bottom half before flouncing back up to her and he said harshly, “Sit.”

* * *

_To Be Continued in Day 3: Just This Once_

 


	3. Stage Three: The Game Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For the @tpthvegebulsmutfest. Finally! We get to the **smut**! PLEASE let me know your thoughts! I need the feedback XD
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> [Click here to visit the TPTH Vegebul Smutfest](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com)  
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> [Click here to visit my Private Tumblr!](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)  
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> **WARNING: Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!**

**__ **

**_Prompt – Day 3: Just This Once_ ** **  
**

 

How much longer was this going to take, she wondered? Her eyes were glazed over and her hand was moving habitually and she couldn’t help but sigh.

“This is taking forever!” she groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, well, deal with it!”

Beside her was a tall blonde woman, her fingers digging into the flesh of an onion and peeling back the layers. Her name was Evelyn, but Bulma knew her as Eighteen—the pathological liar who caused a ruckus in group three weeks ago. She had asked _why Eighteen_ to which the girl had flatly responded, “Gang initiation nickname,” and left it at that. Many people seemed to be afraid of her, but not the blue-haired heiress. In fact, she found her to be entertaining.

“I hate cooking,” Bulma complained. Chopping vegetables and peeling potatoes was not high on her list of priorities, but it was on her list of chores.

Prepping lunch for the day.

How monotonous.

“I hate your whining,” the other girl retorted dryly.

Bulma sighed. “Sorry. I’m _really_ frustrated right now.” She moved the blade of the knife up and down before swiping it against the cutting board to move the vegetables aside.

“Not getting any?” Eighteen smirked sadistically.

The blue-haired woman glared heatedly down at the counter. “No,” she pouted. “Not for lack of trying that is!”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a head turn curiously.

“You have your eye on someone?”

Hands paused in their cutting. “Kind of… It’s not going as well as I thought it would.”

Eighteen chuckled and shook her head before dumping another onion into the bin between them. “Not used to having to be the chaser?”

Bulma growled. “That’s not it. I’m just—I don’t know—not used to having to actually work for it! It’s frustrating!”

“Don’t take this like I care, because I really don’t—”

“Of course not,” She interrupted snidely.

“But when _is_ the last time you fucked someone?”

Thinking back on it, three weeks was a long time to go without sex as she answered, “The night before I checked myself in.”

“Damn! For a sex addict that’s gotta be an eternity!”

“Please stop,” she pleaded as she swiped the board with her knife, letting the vegetables fall to the side.

The girl was snickering beside her. “So, do you do anything to relieve yourself?”

Grumbling, Bulma shifted her stance. The ache was every present now—having gotten worse since her night in Ouji’s office, a night she wished she could forget. “I’m technically not allowed to.”

“But you still do anyways!”

“Sometimes,” the heiress admitted quietly, her eyes casting over her shoulder to see if their supervisor was listening. When she noticed the man standing by the walk-in freezer, she said real low, “Ouji forbade me from any acts of pleasure—said he’d punish me if I gave in.”

Eighteen stopped her peeling and faced her. “He said he’d _punish_ you?”

Bulma shrugged. “In so many words.” She grew incredibly uncomfortable under her friend’s scrutiny and had to keep herself busy. No, Ouji did not use the word punish, but Bulma had wished he had. Everything he said made her want dry hump a fucking tree!

“That’s an interesting choice of word,” the blonde mused with a smirk, her eyes piercing.

“Oh?” Bulma asked as nonchalant as possible as she continued her work, moving on to lifting the pot of veggies she had chopped and carrying it to the sink to fill it with water.

“Mm-hmm.” She picked up the abandoned knife and twirled it expertly before cutting heads of garlic in half. “Even more interesting than the little display you put on in group a few weeks ago.”

The heiress paled significantly and glanced wide eyed over at her companion.

The blonde was smiling with ease, enjoying her moment. She pointed the knife in her direction and taunted, “You think no one noticed, but I did. And let me tell you, that shit was hot!”

“Oh my God!” Bulma nearly screeched in embarrassment. “Did you tell anyone?!”

Eighteen scoffed. “Please, I’ve been holding onto that baby just to torture you!” She tossed the garlic cloves aside and leaned against the counter.

“I’m not kidding, Eighteen! If you told anyone, I could get kicked out and if my family hears about it—”

“Woah!” The girl held up her hands as a signal for Bulma to stop her tirade. “First of all, I don’t understand why you’re pissed. You touched yourself in a room full of fuck ups! Obviously a part of you was hoping someone was watching or else you wouldn’t have done it! And secondly, everyone—even your family—already knows about your dirty little secret so who the fuck cares?! It’s why you’re here, B!” She shook her head in disbelief and returned back to the garlic in front of her. “And anyways, you wouldn’t get kicked out—you’re family pays for the fucking place! Entitled bitch.”

The last portion was said harshly, but almost endearingly and Bulma took no offense. Instead, she stood there in awe—Eighteen was right.

“So, um…” Bulma bit her lip and turned the faucet off and placed the pot on the stove. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

She was met with a shrug of indifference. “I guess I was waiting for the right moment to use it.”

“That’s cruel.”

“But funny,” was the chuckled response.

The continued to work in a comfortable silence for the next half an hour before Bulma was again surprised with, “So, it’s Ouji you wanna fuck, right?”

She had been washing her hands after slicing up chicken, enjoying the fact that she was finally able to work even though she was still extremely aroused. She didn’t know Eighteen very well—only had heard several rumors that all contradicted one another about the girl, but she had safely concluded she felt a connection with her that made her oddly comfortable.

The blonde was a good distraction from the constant wet ache between her legs.

“How’d you come up with that conclusion?” Bulma asked, a lame attempt at covering up the truth that her friend saw right through.

“Because you and him were in a heated staring contest the entire time you were fingering yourself in group and then you both disappeared afterwards.” Eighteen shrugged. “I’m just curious. It’d make sense.”

That made her confused. “Why do you say that?”

“So I’m right?” She was pleased with herself, her eyes twinkling.

Bulma sighed in defeat. “Have you seen the man? He’s sex on a stick that I wanna shove inside me and that accent…” she trailed off and bit back the moan in her throat. “I don’t even know what accent that is, but I’m sure I can get him to get me off just by talking to me. But he won’t fucking touch me—he treats me like I have a disease or something… Does he even like pussy?”

Eighteen guffawed. “Oh, I love how new and naïve you are!” She laughed a deep belly laugh that made Bulma bristle.

“You’re such a bitch, you know that?”

“Yup,” she breathed as she tried to calm herself down. She swallowed and leaned her hands on the counter to take a breath. “Oh, I needed that. That was great!”

Bulma watched her for another few seconds as the girl composed herself and frowned. “Why do I get the feeling I’m missing something?”

“Because you are.”

When Eighteen didn’t indulge any further, Bulma bit out, “Are you gonna fill me in?!”

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

That made her nervous. “The way you say that makes it sound like its bad news.”

Eighteen lifted a shoulder. “It might be for you, but then again it might not.”

That was interesting. The every noisy gossip within the heiress was dying to know. “Just tell me!”

Eyes glanced around the kitchen for their supervisor once more before Eighteen took Bulma by her elbow and dragged her towards the pantry in the back—it was a closed in space far from the rest of the kitchen, secluded and private, and often used by the patients to slack off and do shit they weren’t suppose to.

“Okay,” the blonde began. “Remember our conversation earlier when I said you had fingered yourself in front of a bunch of fuck ups and—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I made a fool of myself,” Bulma stopped her.

“No,” Eighteen continued insistently. “When I said that, I meant _everyone_. Including Ouji!”

“Huh?”

“The guy is weird!” she emphasized. “Haven’t you heard anything about him since you’ve been here?”

Bulma shook her head. She barely spoke to people aside from Eighteen, Chi-Chi, and Goku.

“It’s a little ironic he’s a therapist when he might as well be a patient here! The guy has some serious problems.”

“Like what?”

“For one, he’s a womanizer! Like,” Eight snapped her fingers over and over, “He flies through them like I down cookies every day.”

“He’s a serial dater?” Bulma felt skeptical. The amount of times she had attempted to seduce him since her failed attempt three weeks ago made her think of the man otherwise—more like an asexual or perhaps possibly gay? But, she refused to believe either one of those absurd scenarios.

Instead of watching her masturbate like she had thought he was going to, Ouji had returned to his desk and wrote her up for a violation for her obscene behavior and she sat in the chair, bottomless and mortified as he handed the write-up, ordered her to get dressed, and take the ticket to her morning supervisor for reprimanding.

She knew he had been turned on by what he saw—she saw the tent in his pants—so she was very confused when she left his office, fully clothed and completely dissatisfied.

Which led her to ask, “Is he seeing someone right now?”

“He was,” Eighteen answered. “He had been seeing Dr. Boardman for a bit, but I’m assuming the reason she wasn’t there was because he had ended things. He gets his fucks in and leaves when he’s bored.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So, he’s used to women throwing themselves at his feet?”

Her friend vibrated her lips in a scoff. “From what I know, he has backups—when one doesn’t do the trick he moves on to a backup until he can find someone else. Kind of like that Fifty Shades bullshit.”

Bulma paled. She hated that movie—but the sex was kinky. “He wants a submissive?”

“He likes control.”

 _Oh, absolutely not_ , she thought to herself. There was no way she would ever willingly be controlled—not outside the bedroom. But still…

Her expression of horror turned thoughtful and Eighteen eyed her warily.

“You’re still thinking of banging him, aren’t you?”

Bulma nodded seriously. “I just have to change my plan up a little. Trust me; Bulma Briefs is no one’s bitch.”

 

* * *

 

It was easy breaking into his office. Maybe a little stalkerish, but she didn’t care. She had a point to make and dammit she was going to make it!

The day was nearly over with, but Bulma knew Ouji stayed late to finish work. While at group earlier, she had assessed Dr. Boardman with critical eyes, scanning for whatever might interest the man she wanted to bed earnestly. She didn’t see much except kind eyes, a sweet smile, and an easy attitude.

She got along well with everyone within the facility. Boardman was shapely, but taller than Bulma, which mean she was taller than Ouji. She was observant, but not overly so since whenever the topic of the heiress’s addiction came up the good doctor was never able to pin point the object of her relapses.

It made her wonder if the therapists were even allowed to date one another while working together, but she never dared question it since it appeared their relationship was kept under wraps.

When group had ended, Bulma left the room with all she needed to know and waited for the perfect opportunity to break into Ouji’s office.

It was dinner time, but she wasn’t much hungry. His office was dark which meant he had left to pick up something quick before he would return, eat, finish his work, and head home. Bulma had to grab him fast before he left, judging by Eighteens observation of him—he moved on fast.

The heiress situated herself directly in his chair behind the desk, her legs crossed over the knee and her elbow propped up on the armrest as she waited.

Any minute now.

And like clock work, Ouji’s shadow appeared at the door. She heard the jiggling of keys and then there was a pause when the door creaked open. Bulma had purposefully left it unlocked and cracked and she smirked as she watched him step fearlessly into the room and flick the little light on that illuminated all the shadows in every corner.

Her eyes sparkled as they clashed with his.

“Dr. Ouji,” she greeted slyly.

He stared at her, as if he were unsurprised to find her sitting there. “I don’t think I need to explain how I could have you arrested for breaking into my private office.”

“No,” she agreed with a smile. “I’m pretty familiar with all the _punishments_ by now.”

He hummed and closed the door behind him. In his left hand was a bag of food and he dropped it on the table between the two chairs in front of his desk. He then proceeded to go about taking off his coat and scarf, hanging them up diligently.

“How’d you get in here?” He asked as he straightened his sleeves.

She twirled in the chair to keep facing him. “I’m a certifiable genius; I mastered breaking and entering when I was three.” She saw him cock a brow and assured him, “Don’t worry, it was only entering, I broke nothing.”

“That’s debatable,” she heard him mutter as he sat in one of the chairs and opened the bag, taking the food out and setting in on the edge of the desk as he prepared to eat.

She watched him for a moment, taking him in with predatorial eyes. “I found something interesting out about you today.”

His only response was a quick cast of the eyes in her direction as he shucked the wrapper for his straw into the garbage.

“Are you curious to know what?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me no matter the answer I give,” he said.

Bulma grinned and twirled back and forth in her chair as she spoke freely, “For the last few weeks, I kept wondering if you were gay or not.” She saw him pause and glare at her, as if offended. “I mean, I kept throwing myself at you, I offered to let you watch me masturbate, I took my clothes off and waited for you in the office, I always explained in vivid detail how I would touch myself when thinking about you, but…” She sighed dramatically. “You never once did anything but write me up. It makes a girl wonder.”

“Then,” she laughed. “I started thinking about if you were small or not.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. “You know, your dick? And maybe that’s why you never gave in, because perhaps you were embarrassed about the size. I’ve been with a few men who had pretty tiny cocks, a couple of them actually knew what they were doing, but they were all _really_ insecure about it.”

His food lay abandoned as he stared at her dangerously and Bulma knew she should’ve been nervous, but the look in his eyes only spurred her on further. His gaze nearly lit her on fire.

“And then,” she pointed at him, “I found something out today. Something that made me rethink my efforts entirely.” A spark of seriousness returned to her as she stated, “You like women you can easily manipulate.”

It was subtle, but his cheek twitched and the spot between his eyes puckered just so.

“And that’s why you haven’t tried anything with me. Because you know who I am. And you know I get off on having control.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “If you wish to discuss your issues with control and arousal, its best we wait until tomorrow during visiting hours.”

Bulma shook her head. “No, I’m actually here to discuss a sort of…” She pursed her lips as she thought of the word. “Business arrangement, if you will.” She felt so proud!

Ouji stared at her, eyes narrowed into slits and a scowl on his face. He was quiet for a long time and Bulma wondered if this was going to be like the other times where he would make her think she was in charge before tossing her out on her ass.

She hoped not!

“Business arrangement, you say?” He repeated.

Her eyes widened when she realized he was actually considering her words.

“Yes,” she confirmed as she leaned forward on the desk, her breasts pressed together and plumping forward invitingly. “You see, I know that every single time I took my clothes off or touched myself in front of you, you,” she pressed a single finger to his nose with a grin, “got hard, fast. And we both know that you went home later, tore your pants off, took that rigid cock in your hands, and pounded to the thought of me and my glistening clit.”

She almost laughed when his eyes crossed to look at her finger before returning his intense gaze back to hers. “You really are a vulgar woman.”

He didn’t deny it!

“At least I own it,” she retorted with confidence. She took that finger and dragged it down his face, over his lips and under his chin, scratching the skin delicately. “That thing I heard about you,” she continued. “You like sex almost as much as I do.”

His pupils dilated when she brought her face closer to his.

“But I also heard that you like your women submissive and that is not me.”

She could feel his breath wafting over her face and saw his nostrils flaring at her close proximity. Chancing a glance down, she saw the bulge outline of his cock and grinned.

“So, here’s what I have to offer… I want you, I know you want me. No strings attached. We both get control, we both get off, and we both leave like it never happened.” Her lips hovered over his and she pushed her body so that it crawled across the desk, making sure to shove his food out of the way as she placed herself strategically in his lap. “Lather, rinse, repeat. And no one has to find out about it.”

She began to sway her hips as she straddled him, her eyes closing when she felt his hardness press dead center and when she groaned, she heard a matching, much deeper one.

“I’ll even let you do anything to me, so long as I get to have my way with you too.” Her voice was breathless with moans and her hips were pressing down harder with each sway and grind.

“This won’t do anything for your recovery,” she heard him mutter against her neck, his tongue peaking out to slide along the creamy column.

Bulma tilted her head to the side and continued to hump against him shamelessly. “Who the fuck cares? Why does it have to be considered a disease if you enjoy doing something?” She grabbed his face between both of her hands and begged, “Just this once, please! Fuck me!”

The next thing she knew, her back met a hard surface while her front had a waft of cold air. Looking over, she saw Ouji locking the door and even going so far as placing one of the chairs in front of it for extra security. She grinned widely and sat up, her hands making quick work of her clothes.

When she tore her shirt off, she saw him doing the same as he stood in front of her, their movements a flurry of urging. As she shucked some clothes across the room, she said, “Can I call you Vegeta?”

He had been working on lowering his pants, his cock springing forth and making her go slack jaw when it finally came into view.

God it had been so long!

And he most certainly was not small!

“Private,” he ordered as he forced her onto her back with a shove so that he could tear her sweats from her body. They went flying and before Bulma had any time to prepare, she squealed when her empty cavern was filled with his length—hard, unforgiving, and completely to the hilt.

Immediately, the desk began to move underneath the force of their thrusts and she did not care that it had hurt a little when he entered her. It had been way too long since she had been fucked and this felt as close to heaven as it would get. Her hands had reached out for anything to grab onto as he rocked into her with needy grunts, but there wasn’t much. She was met with empty air, so her nails scratched the top surface of his mahogany desk, sure to be leaving marks.

Good. It would remind him of this moment!

Everything on his desk went scattering to the floor and the only thing Bulma could focus on was the rough friction of his cock moving in and out of her at what seemed like lightning speed. She felt his balls slapping on her ass and her legs hooked around his hips to keep him from leaving as she tried not to scream out of the pure enjoyment from the moment.

“Fuck!” she heard him exhale, his hands on her hips bruising as he pistoned into her. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she felt herself being forced forward and then back, those very same hands moving her to meet his vicious thrusting.

“Oh, holy shit!” Bulma cried. It must’ve been a little too loud because she felt one of his hands leave her hips and cover her mouth, muffling any noise that fell from her numb lips.

She simply couldn’t help it.

Her breast felt wet and looking down, she saw him hunched over and suckling at her right nipple, his teeth occasionally biting and pulling. Her free hand came up to fist his hair, holding him to her chest, but he wasn’t having it.

He gave her butt a quick slap, making her gasp in shock before he pulled out completely.

“No, no!” she begged as she reached for him. “What are you doing?!”

“Hush!” he commanded as he lifted her off the desk and forced her to stand. He then sat in the chair behind him and Bulma made to straddle him again, but he shook his head.

With his hands on her hips, he twirled her until her back was facing him and he helped her to walk backwards until her legs made contact with the chair. Then she felt his palms spread her thighs and looking down, she watched as he adjusted himself so that he was right beneath him.

Again, his hands came back to her hips and he guided her down onto his cock, making it so that she was squatting over him and he was sitting. Catching onto the position, Bulma continued, placing her hands onto the arms of the chair to steady her as she bounced up and down on him. “Like this?” she asked huskily.

“Yes,” he responded with a grunt. “Keep going until I say so.”

Even though she didn’t want him to order her around, she couldn’t deny that it was hot to be told what to do when it came to sex. So, Bulma allowed it to slide as she fucked him.

Her hands left the arm rest to slide up his thighs and rest on his knees. Her body leaned forward a bit and her pace increased.

“Fuck, Vegeta,” she moaned as she rubbed his inner thighs, her fingers brushing against the underside of his sac and making him jerk at the touch.

In retaliation, he wormed his hand to her front so that it dipped low between her legs, seeking her clit. It took him a second, but he found it and Bulma’s eyes widened when she felt the familiar coiling in her stomach tightened to a new level that told her it wasn’t much longer.

He rubbed it slowly, teasingly, and Bulma’s body shuddered.

“Oh God, oh God!” she continually uttered under her breath, her lower half leaning into the touch while her upper half nearly fell on top of him.

Her head fell back against his shoulder as she lost herself to the intensity of her orgasm—so sudden, blinding, and nearly devastating. She felt tears leak out of the corner of her eyes at how immensely good it felt and beneath her, he slowed his thrusting.

Lethargically, she turned her head, hoping to find his lips and kiss him deeply, but Vegeta evaded her. He pulled out of her, grunting as he did so, and lifted her into his arms. They switched positions, Bulma sitting in the chair with him standing in front of her.

He had his glistening cock in his hand—it was still hard—and she realized he hadn’t come yet.

Her eyes drifted lazily up to his when he said, “Suck.”

Cheesing like a cat that got the canary, she pushed herself forward and fell onto her knees in front of him. She took his cock in hand and stroked it slowly as she asked, “Don’t you want to come inside me?”

His fingers drifted into her hair and he growled dominantly, “I do, so suck me.”

Bulma typically was not the kind of girl who swallowed, but his demand rang clear and even though she felt very satisfied, she knew she could go another round just by the way he spoke to her.

So, she obeyed and opened her mouth, her tongue rolling out and licking the tip as her hand stroked him from root to head. Her lips wrapped around the engorged end and she sucked, making a wet noise as she did so and he grimaced, his teeth clenching as he fought to keep control of himself.

His efforts would prove futile.

Slowly, her head began to bob and she hummed every time she went down, her hands wrapped around his large thighs and feeling them shiver from her ministrations. It was when she began playing with his sac that made things end all too quickly.

All too soon, she felt him stiffen and his hand fisted her blue tresses to make her stop. She wondered if their previous fuck had worked him up as much as it had her, but her thoughts were cut increasingly short when he groaned something inaudible and spurts of fluid filled the back of her mouth.

Cringing, Bulma forced herself to swallow the salty mess and as she pulled away, she swiped at her mouth. No, she was not the swallowing kind of girl, at all!

Above her, Vegeta sighed and even though she wasn’t overly happy with the last portion of the evening, she couldn’t help but smile at the weightless feeling that replaced her stressful ache. And looking at him, she could tell he felt the same.

Her eyelids felt heavy and she looked forward to the first good sleep she knew she was going to get. As she climbed to her feet, she winced at the tenderness between her legs, but didn’t complain. She had missed it!

Vegeta watched her for a moment, his hand catching her as she stumbled when she stood, but once she had reclaimed her balance, he let go immediately. Their eyes found one another and neither of them would admit it, but something passed between them that would shake their foundation.

So, they began to dress—no words were spoken. The air was dead quiet, filled with nothing but the shuffling of clothing and both parties righting furniture and supplies they had shoved out of the way in their haste. Bulma didn’t feel right leaving him to clean up the aftermath, so she helped wordlessly. Her hand guiltily lifted the smashed bag of his dinner and he took it and tossed it over his shoulder without saying anything, the bag landing in the wastebasket perfectly.

She almost apologized for ruining his dinner, but that didn’t feel right. One, she wasn’t sorry and two, things felt too right to be spoiled with words.

Once things were mostly righted, Bulma adjusted herself, sighed and made for the door. Behind her, Vegeta followed and graciously he held the door open for her and she nodded her head in thanks before taking her leave.

She didn’t bother to look back, but if she had, she would’ve seen him watching her go with a look of longing and sadness before he slammed the door to the world outside.

* * *

 

_To Be Continued in Day 4: Striptease_


	4. Stage Four: Cry for Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For the @tpthvegebulsmutfest. This is late. You’ll have to excuse me—it seems that my immune system wants me to suffer the season of the flu and headcold. I may need my own MD now…how ironic.  
>  **  
> **  
> [Click here to visit TPTH Vegebul Smutfest!](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com)  
>   
>  **  
> **  
> [Click here to visit my Tumblr!](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)
> 
>  **WARNING:** Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!

****

**_Prompt – Day 4: Striptease_ **

 

Bulma squinted at the screen. Her arms were crossed and her legs were pressed together, but not overtly so like they had been prior to her current arrangement. It was Film Festival Friday—the fancy term that allowed all the residents of the facility to pile into the media room and watch the most recently released movie. Nine times of out ten, the movies were garbage, but it was nice to feel somewhat normal—to experience something that made her feel like she was at home.

Except Bulma was hardly paying attention to the large screen up front.

She sat in the middle row—the lights were off—and each person was sprawled out in the chairs that were provided. Her chin was dropped so that it seemed like she was invested in the movie but really, her eyes were trained on the figure near the front.

On their supervisor for the night.

On Vegeta.

He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his leg propped up against the flat surface—the image of total nonchalance. The pose was so sexy it made Bulma bit her lip.

Ever since their first night, her thoughts were constantly filled with him—so much so that it made it hard to concentrate on anything else. More often than not, she found herself daydreaming in the middle of group or during her chores, thinking of new and innovated ways she would fuck her therapist. She had thought that Yamcha was good in bed, but nothing compared to that night with Vegeta.

She remembered walking away very sore—he hadn’t bothered preparing her. There really was no foreplay if you didn’t count their talk beforehand. And with how reserved he was, Bulma had imagined him to be a prude, but the moment he had shoved her against the desk, she had found otherwise.

He took complete and utter control, down to the position they were in.

Bulma had experimented a few times while with some of her one-night-stands, but mostly it was missionary or cowgirl. She really didn’t think much on it—the only thing she worried about was getting her clothes off as fast as she could so she could be fucked. Her partners had typically seemed to feel the same.

But Vegeta had seemed to care about how things went.

How did she know this?

He had never once closed his eyes when he pinned her to the desk. Maybe he didn’t think she realized it, but she did. Perhaps that’s where they were different. Bulma didn’t care as long as she got off, but Vegeta made sure she felt every ounce of her orgasm and then some. He had maintained eye contact with her, watching her expressions and testing the waters. The fact that he had stared at her with such a heated, penetrating gaze was almost unnerving—she wasn’t used to it.

It made it feel like they were lovers when in reality they were only using one another.

She chalked up to the fact that it was their first time together. They had no idea what the other person liked.

As if sensing her gaze, his eyes shifted from the screen to hers and she couldn’t help but blush.

Weeks had flown by since their first tumble in his office and ever since, things between them had been a whirlwind of naked flesh and desperate pleas—sometimes in his office or the computer lab, other times in the courtyard late at night, and even twice on the rooftop away from prying eyes.

The best times, though, were the spontaneous moments.

Many of which were initiated by her, of course.

Except one occurrence a week ago.

She had been in bed, sleeping. Chi-Chi and several other house reps had been at a fundraiser with Dr. Boardman for the grant program her family had created, attempting to spread awareness while being set up—all expenses paid—in some hotel.

It gave Bulma some peace and quiet for a few nights, something she greatly enjoyed since she wasn’t used to having to share a room back home.

But her peaceful night’s sleep had been interrupted when she felt the bed dip and the sheet slowly slide down her body. She had jerked awake as hands began to peel away her sheet and in her hazy state she found Vegeta hovering over her legs.

To say she was surprised was an understatement.

But she didn’t complain when he crawled on top of her, his knees straddling her hips, and his hands working his tucked shirt from his pants. He moved slow as he unbuttoned each little black and silver button nimbly, revealing a white beater beneath the shirt.

Her eyes stared at the rippling of his shoulder muscles when he removed the shirt and tossed it behind him before tugging the beater by the back of his neck and doing the same.

It wasn’t you’re a-typical striptease, but Bulma was enraptured.

He moved with grace, like a predator—one of those large cats stalking through long grass with eyes set on its prey in the distance before lunging with pure muscle and natural speed.

She had felt herself moan and shift beneath him when his fingers worked the buckle of his belt, the metal contraption clanking against one another before finally releasing and allowing him access to the first button of his pants.

He had opened it and left it like that—giving her a good view of the happy trail that disappeared beneath the fabric—before he descended on her with his hands on her wrists and his mouth slowly leaving a wet path from behind her ear to the base of her throat. Her head tossed back as he gently sucked at the skin and she let out a breath when his hands began to slide down her arms, his fingers ghosting her skin and raising goosebumps.

It had felt so incredibly intimate.

She had no clothing to be removed since her roommate wasn’t in the room, so she took advantage and slept naked. Her nipples pebbled in response to his touch and she arched her back, hinting where she wanted his hands, but he refused. Instead, he lavished her body with attention solely with his mouth, peppering kisses where he could reach and sucking at her pulse.

This was nothing like the good, hard fucking she had become accustomed to. This was different.

Bulma bit her lip when his wet kisses trailed down the valley of her breasts, his fingers combing down her sides and making her squirm.

She was getting incredibly frustrated, that torturous ache returning and demanding to be satisfied, but it seemed like Vegeta had other plans.

His mouth took in a hard nipple and she reached down to grab at his hair, relieved that he was finally giving her _something_ , but he shook her hand off him and returned her arms to above her head. She groaned in frustration, but he only smirked and had said, “You have to learn to resist.”

She stared at him, perplexed, as he returned to his ministrations and wondered if this was some bizarre way for him to teach her how to overcome this intense lust she felt, but that didn’t make any sense because the moment he continued his sucking, her thighs rubbed together and the ability to resist didn’t even comprehend to her when his fingers trailed down her stomach to her wet center, soothing the sensation by circling the swollen nub.

Everything was moving far too slow for her and she felt like she was about to cry. He hadn’t even removed his pants yet and already she was near the point of begging. Vegeta looked to be in no rush as the nipple in his mouth released with a gentle _pop_ , and he crawled down the rest of the way to spread her legs.

He lay on his stomach, his free hand coming up to rub at her outer thigh and his fingers dallied with her core. His eyes would switch between what he was doing to her reaction, ever astute and observant as he lavished her jewel with attention.

Bulma snapped from her thoughts when the lights flicked on in the media room and she blinked rapidly before searching the room, panicked, to make sure no one noticed the fact that she wasn’t paying attention. Her pants were on the verge of being drenched and she sighed in frustration. That was happening a lot lately…

Looking back up, Vegeta was no longer by the wall and she frowned as she stood with the rest of the room. Since it was the weekend, the patients had a little more freedom than initially and curfew was extended by an hour. Making sure nothing notable was showing, Bulma didn’t bother to stay and mingle to discuss the movie and instead slipped out into the hallway.

Her eyes searched both ends for the familiar flamed hair of her therapist, but saw nothing.

Intending to head towards his office, Bulma pivoted, only to come face to face with a knowing grin and familiar eyes.

“Looking for someone special?” Eighteen taunted.

Bulma jerked back away from her and rolled her eyes. “What gives you that impression?”

The blonde pointed at her mouth. “You have a bit of drool and you look flushed.”

“I do not!” she defended heatedly before subtly wiping at the area just to be sure. There was nothing, and the movement was caught.

“Thought so,” the girl declared singsong. Her eyes darted around them to see if anyone else had followed them out to find people already making their way elsewhere and she leaned in and murmured, “Have you, yet?”

The bluenette took another step back for the sake of personal space and played dumb. “Have I what?”

“You know? The thing…with the guy…” She made the obscene gesture between their bodies with her fingers and grinned naughtily. “Have you?”

Bulma’s eyes widened and she grabbed her hands to shield them from other’s eyes. “What the hell, Eighteen?! We’re not alone!”

The girl scoffed. “No one’s even remotely paying attention. And you’re evading the question!”

Bulma sighed heavily and turned the other way, heading in the opposite direction of Vegeta’s office. She refused to answer—part of their agreement was that no one found out.

But did that mean she couldn’t tell Eighteen?

Were pathological liars trustworthy?

Could they keep a secret?

With that thought in mind, Bulma knew that even if she did tell her friend, no one would believe her. No one believed her now anyways.

“Well?” The question was drawn out as they walked side by side and behind her, she heard giggling. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she saw Chi-Chi speaking with Goku and immediately recognized the flirtatious body language between them.

It was cute to witness.

“Are you seriously not going to tell me?” The whine quickly followed.

“Why would I?” Bulma felt the need to ask. “One, you do realize that _if_ I did, I’d be in a lot of trouble if someone found out. And two, he could lose his job. Not that I’m saying I did,” she quickly added as an afterthought.

“So you did?”

“I just said—” Bulma groaned in frustration and shook her head. “Forget it.”

“Then you didn’t?” Eighteen eyed her skeptically, as if not believing she hadn’t. It almost offended her that she didn’t believe her lie. Yes, she realized how crazy that sounded.

“Why are you asking anyways?”

Her friend shrugged. “I don’t know. You seem extra spacey lately.”

Bulma smirked. “Are you trying to admit you care all of a sudden?”

“Of course not!” Eighteen folded her arms. “I just enjoy gossip and nothing’s been brewing lately since the doc’s relationship ended with your man.”

“Oh no!” She turned on the balls of her feet and held a hand to her chest as she walked backwards, mocking her companion. “How will you ever survive?”

“I know,” was the dramatic sigh. But then, she brightened and said, “At least tomorrow’s Visitor’s Day! Maybe my boyfriend will have something for my sanity.”

“Boyfriend?” Bulma inquired with piqued interest. “You’ve said nothing about a boyfriend.”

“You never asked.”

“What else haven’t you told me?” she pried gently with a chuckle.

“I have a twin brother.”

“What?!” Bulma exclaimed with a smirk. “Seriously?!”

Eighteen nodded; the smile she had been wearing disappearing and making Bulma feel like she shouldn’t have asked.

“He’s not coming tomorrow?”

The blonde shook her head. “Remember that gang I was a part of? He was in it too, but he got caught by the cops and it was either become an informant or face severe jail time and he thought that if he pretended to be an informant, he’d be able to stay out of jail, but that didn’t quite work out like he thought. So, now he’s on the run from both the cops and the people who took us in.”

Bulma stared at her with wide eyes, her mouth hung open, speechless. A small thought crossed her mind—was that the truth?

She couldn’t be sure, but all she could say was, “I’m sorry, Evelyn.”

“Shit happens,” her friend snapped heartlessly as she proceeded to walk and Bulma slowed, watching as her friend continued on without her.

What just happened?

“Hey!” she heard a laugh behind her.

Turning, she saw Chi-Chi walking up with Goku and forced a smile on her face at their close proximity to one another. “Hey,” she greeted back to them.

“We’re going out to the courtyard! They’ve set up a bonfire and marshmallow roast for us. You coming?” Chi-Chi asked with a bright smile.

“Um…” Her eyes shot behind the girl towards the direction of Vegeta’s office in longing, but knew that there was no way she’d be able to sneak that way without being noticed. So, she sighed and nodded her head with feigned enthusiasm. “Yeah! I just have to grab my coat.”

“Meet you out there?” Goku asked as he passed.

“Sure thing!” She told them as they took off towards the courtyard.

Soon, the hallway was deserted as Bulma made for the dormitories. Almost everyone was outside and she wondered if Vegeta had lingered behind to help situate the night—or to see her—but when she entered her room to find it dark and empty, she was heavy with disappointment.

Grabbing her coat, Bulma attempted to ignore the clenching of her arousal that signified her need for relief. She knew tonight wasn’t going to play out like she hoped and she could only pray she would be able to last as she left her dorm behind and made for the courtyard.

 

***

 

Bulma stared at the flames, entranced. All around her was excited chatter as people passed along marshmallows and enjoyed the crisp night air of the weekend, but the only thing she could seem to focus on was the ache in between her legs and the fact that she had nothing to take it away. She wanted to return to her room and take care of it herself, but for some reason her legs weren’t cooperating.

Her eyes drifted beyond the fire to find Goku, his face beaming as he roared in laughter at something someone had said. Bulma was in no way attracted to the man, but even she wasn’t stupid to think he wasn’t good looking.

Vegeta was nowhere in sight and she had drawn the conclusion that he had left the facility which made her bitter and angry. Sure, she enjoyed spending time outside with the others, but right now all she really wanted to do was drag him back to her room and bang one out.

The fact that he wasn’t here made her feel panicky and she didn’t even realize that she was now staring at Goku with a predatorial glare. The kid had admitted that he was a virgin—he had absolutely no experience—and Bulma knew that if she were to try to drag him back the chances of her getting off were slim.

Yet, at the same time, she knew she could teach him a thing or two that would ensure she would at least find some semblance of satisfaction, enough that would hold her over.

Before she knew what she was doing, she had climbed to her feet and was slowly making her way around the fire. Beside him was Chi-Chi, a long stick in her hand with a roasting marshmallow on the end. She was sharing a pleased smile with Goku before returning her attention back to the fire to make sure the fluffly white pillow didn’t burn.

Bulma saw her reach for the bag of chocolates only to discover that the bag was empty and the girl had frowned in disappointment.

“Hey!” she shouted across the fire. “Do you guys have anymore hersheys?”

One girl held up a small bag for her to see and immediately, Chi-Chi left her post to grab the bag.

That gave Bulma the perfect time to move in.

She sat down in the spot Chi-Chi abandoned and gave Goku a small smirk, her eyes sparkling. “Hey,” she murmured to him.

He glanced down at her and grinned happily. “Hey Bulma!” He held up his ‘smore and asked, “Want one?”

Her eyes landed on his lips, watching his tongue peak out to lick at the residual sticky chocolate and marshmallow goodness and she bit her lip. “Maybe another time.” Beyond the fire, she saw Chi-Chi arguing with the girl who had the bag of chocolate and Bulma leaned into Goku’s space and asked, “I have a favor to ask you.” The words were whispered huskily, but she knew the man would be clueless in her attempts.

“Oh?” he asked as he finished off his little snack. His brow cocked down at her curiously.

“Yeah,” she nodded before looking back at the compound behind them. “Do you think you can meet me at my dorm in fifteen minutes? And don’t tell Chi-Chi.”

He frowned at her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she said hurriedly as she stood. Chi-Chi was making her way back over with the bag proudly in hand and Bulma stepped back while maintaining eye contact with Goku. She mouthed, “Don’t say anything.” She waited for him to nod before she gave him a pleased smile and turned to leave.

“Hey Bulma!” she heard her roommate call after her. “Don’t you want a ‘smore?”

Turning back, she shook her head. “No thanks! I’m gonna go inside, I’m cold. You guys have fun.”

As Bulma left, she felt the familiar giddy excitement settle in the pit of her stomach, but also there was shame. She knew Chi-Chi had a thing for Goku, so she didn’t understand why she picked _him_ out of the crowd to fuck. There were plenty of other guys there who would’ve been willing, but…Goku was an easy target.

That was it.

Making her way through the warm halls of the facility, Bulma leaned against a wall and rested her head back, closing her eyes.

What the fuck was she doing?

Never before had she questioned her actions. She loved sex, there was nothing wrong with that. But perhaps there was something wrong with her if she was willing to fuck her friends love interest? What did that say about her?

Unbeknownst to her, she felt tears spring to her eyes and her chest was heaving when she realized there was no way she could carry through, yet her body was screaming and demanding for her too. Did she really have no self-control? Was Vegeta right?

Vegeta…

Eyes drifted in the direction of his office and the next thing she knew, she was turning away from the dormitories and heading for the darkened administration building. As Bulma passed the parking lot, she saw that the majority of the cars were gone and the lot was nearly empty—the truck she had discovered he drove was not there.

So he had gone home.

Her eyes drifted to the clock to find she had ten minutes before Goku would be at her room—ten minutes before she would do the unthinkable, and she knew she would.

So, Bulma began to search the receptionist desk, pulling several paperclips free before making her way to another door. She knelt down, bent the clip into the right position and began to pick the lock carefully, making sure to turn the knob when ready.

As soon as the door swung open, she immediately went to work, searching the file cabinets for the employee records. Her fingers skimmed through the folders before pulling Vegeta’s file out of the mix and she quickly flipped through before finding what she needed.

Sighing, Bulma sat down and reached for the phone, dialing the number from the file.

She waited as it rang and her chest vibrated with how hard her heart was beating.

“Ouji,” a gruff voice spoke coldly and Bulma shuddered at the sound.

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words got lodged in her throat.

“Hello? Who is this?”

With a trembly breath, Bulma said, “V-Vegeta?”

A long pause followed and then, “Bulma? How’d you get this number?”

She glanced down at her lap and felt a tickle on her cheek, raising her hand, she brushed at her skin to find she was crying. “I um…” she sniffed. “I may have broke into the administration office and found your file.”

“What? Bulma this isn’t—”

“Vegeta, I think I’m about to do something bad,” she told him quickly, hating how her voice wavered and betrayed her emotions.

“Bad? What do you mean bad?” he asked and in the distance, she heard movement and shuffling.

“Um,” she swallowed heavily. “You told me I always had to tell you when I’m aroused, but how can I tell you when I’m _always_ aroused? I can’t seem to control it anymore.”

“Where are you now?” She heard the swing of a door closing and then the sound of an engine turning over—he was in his truck.

Her eyes drifted around the office. “Some office, I’m not sure whose.” She swiped at her nose. “It sucks, ya know. I didn’t want to believe I have a problem, but it kind of smacked me in the face tonight.” She saw a clock hanging above the file cabinets and saw that Goku would probably be on his way to her room by now. “Would you think less of me for what I’m about to do?”

“I’m on my way right now, stay in that office, Bulma!”

“I can’t,” she told him. “But I wanted to tell you I’m sorry before I do it. And I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“Bulma, wait!”

With shaky hands, she hung the phone up and rubbed at her face. The ache was prominent now despite how upset she was. Even now, her body was buzzing with anticipation of a good lay while her mind was screaming at her that this was seriously a bad idea.

But for some reason, it didn’t stop her as she righted the office, returned the file, locked the door, and began the track back to her room.

Part of her hoped Goku wouldn’t be there, but as she rounded the corner, her heart both skip a beat and sank when she saw him leaning against the door to her room.

Straightening her shoulders, Bulma approached him and plastered on a smile. “Hey, you came!”

Goku pushed away from the wall and shrugged. “Curiosity, I guess. So what’s the favor that I can’t tell Chi-Chi?”

Pursing her lips, she opened her door and beckoned him in, but he hesitated. “You do know that I’m not allowed in there, right?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she winked.

Oh, poor trusting Goku. He didn’t bother questioning it as he followed her inside and Bulma closed the door behind them, wishing she could lock it if the rooms had locks… He turned about the room before his eyes fell on hers expectantly.

“I kind of have a problem I need you to help me take care of,” she told him slowly, timidly almost as she stepped closer.

“Sure, anything!” he said. “What is it?”

“Anything?” she asked.

He nodded, his eyes wide, honest, and innocent—it was almost painful to look at.

Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes full on before slipping her jacket off and taking the end of her shirt and pulling it over her head to reveal her bra.

His eyes widened and he held up his hands. “Bulma what are you—”

“I need you to fuck me, Goku. Right now.”

* * *

_To Be Continued in Day 5: Heavy Breathing_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be updating this daily, but weekly now since the Smutfest is over.


	5. Stage Five: The Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [@tpthvegebulsmutfest](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com), which is starting back up in October 2018 - the prompts have just been released!
> 
> So, I’ve been naughty and left this unfinished – partly because my life became horribly busy with a lot of tragedy, and also because I received a rather nasty review claiming I was writing a “rape is sexy” story (which I’m not) and it hit me kind of hard.  
> 
> 
> Recently, I was approached by one of my readers and asked to complete it. I had posted on Tumblr that I’m commissioning my writing because of some crazy events that came up in my life which have placed my family and I in a very tight spot. **[You can read it here](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com/post/174338961868/writing-commissions)** about both the incident and the commission details, because it would be too long to go into detail.  
> 
> 
> Anyways, thank you to GreatRageShortLegs for giving me a swift kick in the ass and lending me a helping hand! This story was commissioned to be finished and she deserves the credit! You are amazing, girl, and I cannot express enough how much I’m grateful! I hope you, and all my readers, enjoy the conclusion!  
> 
> 
> This is going to be finished within 4 chapters.  
>    
> 
> 
> Also, I have a **ko-fi page!** If you like my work and want to support me, stop by and say hi, or whatever, then [Buy Me a Coffee!](https://ko-fi.com/K3K3DVUR)  
>    
> 
> 
>   
> [](https://ko-fi.com/K3K3DVUR)
> 
> **WARNING: Story may contain triggers (dub con, addiction, self harm, mental illness etc), explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!**

****

**_Prompt – Day 5: Heavy Breathing_ **

Goku panted, his heavy breathing combined with hers filling up the silence of the room.

Their eyes met, and Bulma felt a bead of perspiration fall down the back of her neck. It got hot quick and she could hear her heart hammering, feeling her thighs quiver with intense need as an anxious bubble welled up in her stomach, begging for release, for the moment to come.

But, she wasn’t sure if it ever would because he wouldn’t stop staring at her!

Biting her lip, she allowed the shirt to fall to the side before stepping towards him.

“You look like a deer caught in headlights,” she commented with a slight smirk. It was more so to abate the tension between them, knowing he was a virgin; she hoped her teasing eased things.

Goku looked more like a fish than a deer – his mouth opened and closed as his eyes fell to her bra, a dark red blush painting his cheeks before he cleared his throat and shot back up to stare at her forehead.

“It’s okay,” she murmured as she reached behind her to undo the clasps. “You can look.”

“Bulma,” he started, his voice strained. “I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Are you nervous?” she asked as the restraining brassiere fell to the wayside, her upper body now fully exposed. Her chest felt tight, but she ignored the turmoil of feelings in her as the overwhelming need to be filled ticked away. It was crippling, and she never felt more out of control, and out of depth than she did in this moment.

Was he nervous? That was a stupid question to ask. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes!

What if Chi-Chi walked in on them? A moment ago, Bulma didn’t care. But now, thinking of her friend and roommate only made her feel guilty. Looking upon Goku as he was now made her feel dirty. But she couldn’t help it.

It was like a fix – she desperately needed it.

“I was my first time,” she told him as she reached for his hands. “But I’ll walk you through it.”

He shook his head and swallowed heavily. “This probably isn’t a good idea, Bulma. You’re recovery…”

She hesitated, their fingers touching and curled around one another. Her recovery, up until now, was nonexistent. She didn’t believe she had a problem. But, as she stood here, in front of her friend, begging him for sex, she finally was coming to terms with it.

And it didn’t make a difference.

“A-and I like… I like Chi-Chi!” He admitted quickly. “I don’t want to hurt her!”

Bulma glanced up at him to see he was finally looking at her with an overwhelming level of concern. She could see he did care very much for her roommate – the adoration in his eyes whenever he looked at Chi-Chi made her a little jealous.

Jealous, but happy.

“I know…” she murmured quietly. Covering her bare chest with crossed arms, Bulma bowed her head. “I like her too, but…” She fidgeted in place, the words failing at the tip of her tongue, refusing to burst forth. Before she knew it, a few tears were streaking down her cheeks unwillingly and she frowned.

“Ah, damn…” Goku muttered when he saw this. He brought his hands up to embrace her, but they only hovered over her bare skin, untouching and awkward.

Her face fell, and she pressed herself against him, uncaring of her half naked appearance as she cried. “I’m sorry, Goku!” Voice muffled by his chest, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave into the sobs. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know what to do!”

“You need to talk to Ouji about this.”

If he only knew – the man who was supposed to help her only aided in her problem by spending countless nights between her thighs, giving her some of the best orgasms she’s ever had. Just the thought of Vegeta being buried inside her only made her want to fuck Goku more – or anyone really. Why did something so pleasurable become so problematic?

He sighed when she said nothing, and he allowed his arms to embrace her, his hands large and warm on her back. They created a pleasant, tingling sensation that sparked down her spine. The hug was purely for comfort, platonic enough to ease her troubles, and Goku was so innocent and sweet that he had no idea what his touch did to her. It felt good to have his hands on her naked skin and her thoughts drifted uncontrollably to a time where those hands would surely bring about her screams.

A rush of arousal soaked through her cotton underwear and Bulma stiffened as she rubbed her thighs together to create friction.

Quickly, he removed his hands when he felt her fidget. “Should I not touch?”

Biting her lip, Bulma felt the sensation explode and her knuckles turned white as she fisted his shirt. “I really want to fuck you,” she admitted. “It’s the only way it’ll go away.”

He said nothing, and she felt his struggle.

“I won’t say anything to Chi-Chi,” she promised quietly. Peeking up at him, her eyes were glassy, but clear. “Please? As a friend?”

God, how awful was she?

Goku stared down at her, his eyes wide and conflicted as he searched her gaze for a long, long pause. His jaw tightened, as did his hands on her shoulders before he shoved her away.

She flinched and nodded. “Fair enough…”

Bulma faltered, though, when he drew his shirt over his head and took a deep breath before beckoning her towards him. Clothes were shucked and, after taking in his muscular form, she offered him her hand as she led him to the bed.

 

***

 

Vegeta slammed the door to his truck as he barreled into the facility, his legs forcing him down the hall towards Bulma’s dorm. He panted as he shot off, his face grim and serious as he replayed their conversation in his head.

_“Vegeta, I think I’m about to do something bad.”_

She sounded lost, and he had no one to blame but himself. She was there for a reason, but he had a weakness too, one he had thought to have control over, only to discover he didn’t. He prayed she hadn’t given in, and his thoughts raged with who she could’ve found and what she was currently doing. Jealousy was a twisted emotion that never sat well with him, but now he couldn’t afford it.

She was his patient, not his lover.

_“I can’t seem to control it anymore.”_

Those words haunted him. He knew the feeling, had experienced it himself once. He saw much of himself in Bulma, the pride, the anger, the lust, the fight. It’s what attracted him to her in the beginning.

But in the end, he had allowed his dick to rule his body and only enabled her addiction, driving her to this moment.

He had failed her.

In his haste to reach her wing of the facility, he had made a wrong turn and pivoted on his heels, his heart ready to jump from his chest as his emotions clouded him. He wasn’t rational right now, but he was driven by one instinct, and that was to reach and stop Bulma – to protect her from herself. He prepared himself for what he might find, but part of him knew there was no way he could ever be ready.

He had become attached during their exploits and he was ashamed of it.

Vegeta was not the type of person to grow feelings for another. Like Bulma, he enjoyed sex, and the majority of his past relationships were purely of the physical nature; controlled, at least. He never thought much of the future while with his former lovers, they were only there for companionship and nothing more.

He had grown fond of Bulma, and perhaps it was due partially to the fact he knew so many intimate details about her, so much so that they reminded him of himself. Narcissistic of him, maybe, but he couldn’t deny that Bulma had found a way inside him and had stayed there, much to his annoyance.

Soon, Bulma’s door was in sight and he steeled himself for what he was about to walk in on. He didn’t bother knocking as he threw open the door, his presence looming and unavoidable.

“Bulma!” he shouted as he rushed inside.

He faltered when he found the blue haired woman curled up on her bed, her blanket wrapped tightly around her body as she shook. Her face was wet as she stared at him with wide eyes, fear sparking in their depths. Beside her, Goku sat with his arm around her shoulder, his upper body shirtless as he held her to him and his lower body concealed from his eyes by a thin sheet.

Vegeta sneered at the sight, but instead of acting on his jealous rage, he leveled a stern glare on Goku.

“Get. Out.”

Goku nodded quickly before casting Bulma an unsure glance as he stood. Thankfully, he was still dressed, and as he passed, he grabbed his shirt. Before he left, he stopped by Vegeta’s side and whispered into his ear before the man jerked his head towards the door without replying, indicating for him to do as he was told.

The younger one obliged him without incident.

Once the door closed, Vegeta released the breath he was holding.

“You’re here,” Bulma murmured in awe.

He frowned down at her in confusion. “Of course, I’m here! You called me admitting to relapsing! I had to come! I’m still your therapist.”

She nodded, but her disappointment was apparent.

Vegeta approached the bed and observed her shrouded form critically. She avoided his eyes as he looked her over. She appeared physically fine, but it was clear she was on the verge of a mental breakdown – if she wasn’t already there. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bulma beat him to it.

“I’m sorry.”

He sighed and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he stated. Vegeta took her chin and tilted her face to his. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

Bulma scowled. “What?”

“I’ve crossed a line with you. I’m meant to help you, not…” His teeth grinded together and he looked away at her hurt expression. “Don’t look at me that way. You know just as well what we’ve done is wrong.”

Her mouth fell open and it felt like her breath left her. “It didn’t feel wrong…”

“It was.” He stated firmly. Meeting her eyes, he said, “Tomorrow, I’m going to transfer you to another psychologist, one who will take your care and recovery more into consideration than I have.”

She shook her head. “But Vegeta! You have been helping!”

Vegeta scoffed. “Fucking a sex addict is like handing a junkie a syringe, spoon, and lighter. That’s not helping, that’s enabling, Bulma.”

More tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. She whimpered. “But, I don’t want anyone else…”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “In what way? Because right now, your choices are limited.”

She flinched, his words like a stab to her heart. Truth always did have a way of penetrating deeper.

Licking her lips, Bulma suppressed the urge to sob. “So… you’re going to pawn me off to the next guy and be done with me? Is that it?”

“I can’t work with you,” he stated slowly. “You know why I can’t.”

“No, I don’t!” She cried defiantly. “It was only sex with you, Vegeta! There were no feelings, there was no connection—”

He stood abruptly and glared down at her before it melted away into one of neutral coldness. “If that’s what you believe, then you are a bigger fool than I took you for.”

Bulma gasped at the underlining confession in his tone, but before she could respond, he was backing away quickly and pulling his phone from his pocket. For a moment, she saw a look of resignation on his face, and it blew her away. Vegeta always appeared so confident and sure, but now he appeared withdrawn and sad.

Did he actually care for her?

“I’ll arrange for your new psych eval. It’ll be scheduled for the morning. I must report your relapse to the board as well. Get some sleep tonight, tomorrow’s going to be difficult. And you are confined within your dorm until you meet with your new therapist,” he instructed as he dialed, purposefully avoiding her pleading and awe-struck gaze.

“But…Vegeta…”

Sparing her one more, fleeting look, Vegeta sighed and brought the phone to his ear. “Goodbye, Bulma.”

With that, he left and Bulma collapsed on the bed, her body wracking with sobs as she curled in on herself.

How did things become so complicated?

 

***

 

The next few days, Bulma spent them in a haze of despair as she went through the ropes of another evaluation with a nameless psychologist she barely connected with.

Dejectedly, she floated throughout the facility, her actions lingering over her like a looming black cloud. She hadn’t seen Vegeta since their parting and Goku had mysteriously vanished as well. She was sure both men were avoiding her, and she couldn’t blame either of them. Her behavior had been appalling but she couldn’t bring herself to seek either Goku or Vegeta out to apologize.

She simply didn’t have it in her.

So, Bulma receded into herself, her mood falling even lower than ever before. Chi-Chi often peered at her with a look of great concern and on the occasion attempted to pry out what was going on with the young heiress, but the blue haired woman couldn’t form the betraying words that would sully their friendship. Keeping her mouth shut and the horrible feelings inside seemed the best option.

During the day, Bulma went about her business, taking on the façade of an obedient patient going through the motions of recovery. By night, when all was asleep, she gave in to temptation. If no one would fuck her, she would fuck herself.

Her fingers, slick with her arousal, would slide deep inside her to soothe the ache and fill the emptiness that had grown into a permanent home in her chest. In her lust-filled haze, she would imagine Vegeta hovering over her, his cock moving deep and slow inside her as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Unlike those moments when he was physically there, Bulma always brought herself to completion silently and the ecstasy was always short-lived and unsatisfying.

“Bulma?”

Her head snapped up from the table at which she sat to find Evelyn hovering over her with a tray in hand and a frown on her face.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Staring down at the empty space before her, she shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

The woman sighed, the sound filled with irritation as she dropped her tray on the table and took the seat across from her. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been like this a week now! It’s driving me nuts.”

Bulma didn’t have the energy to glare. “Sorry I’m bring your party down.”

Evelyn scoffed. “You know that’s not what I meant! You’ve been moping like you lost a puppy and if I hear Chi-Chi bitch one more time about how it’s like living alone, I won’t be held accountable for my actions, I swear!” Leaning close, she growled, “Spill. Now.”

The bluenette turned her head away. “It’s nothing. I just can’t stand it here.”

“Yeah, right. It’s written all over your face. You went from accepting and tolerating this place to…well…this. So, what happened?”

Her eyes burned with unshed tears and she was surprised she had anything left in her. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh, God,” Evelyn groaned. “You’re gonna make me work for this, aren’t you?”

“No, because there’s nothing to talk about.”

A fist pounded on the table and made her jump, her eyes wide as she stared at her friend in disbelief. The girl’s nostrils were flaring as she glared. “You’re not as slick as you think you are, and the way you’re acting is screaming _‘give me attention’_! You’re getting it, so stop being so fucking stubborn and let me help you, dammit!”

Bulma sat there astounded and a little offended. She pursed her lips when she felt a fresh wave of tears spring forth. Turning her head, she gazed down at a flaw on the table and acted disinterested.

“Did you and Ouji break up?” It was asked quietly, the tone hushed and gentle.

Her chin wobbled, but she remained strong. “Breaking up implies there was a relationship, Eighteen. We were just fuck buddies.”

“ _Were?_ ”

Bulma closed her eyes when she realized her slip.

A hand reached across the table and found hers, fingers working her palm open from it’s tight fist to hold it. “It was more than sex,” Evelyn pointed out clearly.

Wiping furiously at her face, the tears breaking free, Bulma frowned. “It doesn’t matter.”

The other girl sighed. “It ended, though?”

She nodded.

“I see.” Evelyn squeezed her hand. “It’s probably for the best.”

Bulma removed her hand and sat back, glaring. “For the best?” she repeated. “He dropped me like it was nothing! He left me when I needed him!”

Hands rose in mocking surrender. “I don’t know the details, so I can’t say much in that regard, but Bulma… You must understand… He could’ve lost his job.”

She paused and shook her head. “We were careful. No one knew. And besides, why do you care? You encouraged it!”

Evelyn shrugged and looked sheepish. “I shouldn’t have. I didn’t think either of you would become attached. And look at you! It’s ruined your progress!”

Bulma scoffed. “Progress. There was no progress. I wasn’t on the road to recovery while I was being fucked left and right. All I could think about was the next time and if he wasn’t available, who I could find…”

“Is that what happened?”

Sighing, her head bowed forward, and she ran a hand through her flimsy locks. “Kind of,” she admitted reluctantly.

Evelyn’s eyes sharpened with interest. “Who?”

Bulma bit her lip and furrowed her brow. “If I tell you, no one can know! No one!” she stressed.

Her friend nodded.

Leaning close, she whispered, “Goku.”

“Holy shit!” the exclaimed shock was shouted, catching many off guard.

Bulma flinched and shushed her as she looked around quickly. “Shut up!”

Covering her mouth, wide eyes sparkled in disbelief. “Tell me you’re joking!”

Leveling her with a dull look, Bulma tilted her head. “I may be an addict, but I’m not a liar.”

“Fuck, dude…” Evelyn huffed. “So… was he good?” She winced slightly when her shoulder was struck. “Okay, then. Not the point, I get it.” Silence passed between them for a moment. “What happened, then?”

Swallowing, Bulma appeared dejected as she explained what happened, from asking Goku back to the dorm to her phone conversation, to her inevitable departure with Vegeta. When it was over, Evelyn sat there, her lips thinned and her face unreadable.

“That would explain why Ouji hasn’t been around. I heard he took a leave of absence.”

Bulma felt a spark of panic and her heart shattered. So, not only was he avoiding her, but he was avoiding work to avoid her. That hurt…

“I haven’t see him or Goku since.”

“Don’t start crying again,” Evelyn instructed firmly with a pointed finger. “You need to think about it this way. Vegeta cared about you enough to end things. He wants you to get better! He did you a massive favor and came to his senses!”

Sucking in a breath, the young heiress nodded as she held the sob at bay.

“You need to ask yourself, what are you going to do now?” Her friend waited with expectancy. “Are you going to mope? Or are you going to actually get better so you can get the fuck out of here?”

Shamefully, Bulma allowed a small sob to escape and she quickly covered her mouth. “I don’t think I can… All I want to do is just… get off! I hate it! I didn’t care who it was, and I feel horrible that I cornered Goku like a frightened animal! I’m a fucking monster! And now he won’t talk to me!”

Handing her a napkin, Evelyn watched her dab at her face. “You kind of deserve it right now, but the funny thing about Goku is, he’s such a massive kid he’ll forgive you eventually. I don’t know about Ouji, but he’s not your priority. You are.” She watched as the bluenette gathered herself, taking in short, shaky breathes as she did so. “So, what are you going to do now, Bulma?”

The girl sat there in thought, her face pulled and her brow taut. What was she going to do? There really was only one answer.

“I want to get the fuck out of here. I want to be normal.”

Evelyn smiled. “How about we get you some food to start?”

 

 

***

 

Another week passed and there was still no sign of Vegeta.

 _Perhaps he quit_ , an eerie voice whispered in the back of her mind. _Or maybe he was fired for fucking a patient!_

Bulma refused to acknowledge either disturbing thought as she continued about her day. No longer would she allow herself to sulk – that’s not who she was raised to be. She was an heiress of a multi-billion-dollar corporation; she had spunk, attitude, and a fire in her that was unmatched. She refused to allow a mistake – a horrible, miserable, life altering mistake – do her in.

No, whenever she found herself in the pit, she always, _always_ dug herself out. She would do it again.

So, Bulma went about her routine, but instead of pretending to go through the motions while sitting in denial, she admitted to her problem and took it all on the chin. Her chores were done in a stoic manner, but she couldn’t help noticing that Goku wasn’t her partner any longer. It stung, she wouldn’t deny that, but she respected his need for space and hoped that if, or when, their paths crossed, she would get the opportunity to apologize.

The day came sooner than she expected.

Walking down the hall in between group sessions, Bulma saw in the distance Goku walking along side Chi-Chi, the couple smiling and exchanging a laugh over some silly joke. Upon noticing her, the man froze and caught off guard, Chi-Chi glanced up to find her blue-haired roommate staring at them with a look of desolation.

“Bulma!” she waved over, but her hand was stayed by Goku who slowly shook his head. Frowning up at him, their mouths moved, but their tone was so quiet the heiress couldn’t make out anything they were saying.

The next thing she knew, Chi-Chi glanced over at her with a confused scowl before their bodies turned and they headed in the opposite direction.

She winced at the rejection.

That night, her friend had confronted her.

“What’s going on with you and Goku?” she asked from her place on the bed.

Bulma was folding her clothes and placing them slowly in a dresser drawer, the monotone colors making her more depressed. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“Because Goku never avoids anyone and he practically pulled me away from you.” Looking over her shoulder, she saw Chi-Chi gnawing on her bottom lip. “Did you two get into a fight or something? Did you say something?”

Bulma bristled. “Why do you assume it was me that did something?”

 _Because it was you, idiot!_ Her mind screamed at her.

Chi-Chi blinked at her dully. “Um, because you have the habit of speaking your mind without a filter! I mean, come on, you know you piss people off just by opening your mouth!”

Rolling her eyes, she finished her laundry and shoved the drawer closed. “You and I both know Goku isn’t that easily offended.”

“Yet, something happened between you both to make him want to run.”

“It’s nothing,” she argued as she turned and made her way to her bed.

Her roommate scoffed angrily. “Fine! If you won’t tell me, I’ll just get it out of him!”

“Fine,” Bulma responded as she fell on her stomach, taking her pillow and shoving her face in it. Her anger did nothing but ignite her arousal – a good hard fucking would ease her troubles. But, she couldn’t.

She needed to exemplify control. She needed to get her life in order, her addiction, just so she could leave.

“I will,” the girl continued to threaten.

“I said fine!” the other yelled. “Go ahead! Ask him! See if I care!”

Bulma knew she wouldn’t, the bluff was transparent, and she knew Goku wouldn’t spill even if Chi-Chi did ask. Sighing, she rolled onto her side, facing the wall with her back to the rest of the room, and closed her eyes.

Moments later, she heard, “I thought we were friends.”

Her eyes snapped open and she glared at the wall. “Friends don’t always share everything.”

“Says who?” Chi-Chi countered. “In a place like this, we need that type of friend.”

Bulma’s glare softened into one of sadness. “Just leave it be, Chi.”

A heavy, rough sigh followed and some rustling shortly after that, indicating her roommate was preparing for bed. When things quietened down and the lights went out, Bulma felt herself relax as she slipped beneath the covers.

The silence was short-lived.

“I don’t like my two best friends at odds with each other. Promise me whatever it is, you’ll make it up to him.”

A small tear leaked out of the corner of Bulma’s eye, dripping onto her pillow only to be absorbed by the fabric. She wished she could say yes, she wished there was a guarantee. She loved Goku, but she was sure her actions had damaged their friendship in irreparable ways.

Unsure of how to go about fixing her mistakes, Bulma cuddled further into the blanket and wiped the offending tear away. Sniffling, she listened to the silence as time passed, her ears ringing loudly until Chi-Chi’s soft snoring could be heard. She wanted nothing more than to undo what she did, but she felt lost in a sea of consequence.

There really was only one thing she could do.

“I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Connect with me :D
> 
>   * [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com)
>   * [Commission my Writing!](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com/post/174338961868/writing-commissions)
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> 



	6. Stage Six: Confessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the @tpthvegebulsmutfest.
> 
> Thank you guys so much for the flood of support and responses! I’m extremely touched! 
> 
> Also, I wanted to make a quick announcement. My sister, my fiancé, and I are starting a charity for animals in memory of my dog, Bear, who passed away from a bleed in the brain caused by a brain tumor. We had no idea she had cancer until it was too late, and she passed within 6 weeks, going from a very happy, playful dog, to extremely sick very quick. The loss was great; she was a rescue dog that we took from an abusive home and gave her the best life we could offer; turning her from the shy, timid, fearful of everything kind of dog she was into making friends with everything and everyone. 
> 
> We couldn’t afford the MRI, we could barely afford the treatments for her symptoms, and in the end what we thought was just seizures, the cancer took her. We ended up putting ourselves further in debt just to try to save her, and unfortunately, in the end, that’s what we were forced to do, just not in the way we hoped. So, our charity, **“Bear Cares”** , is targeting families and animals who were in a similar situation; unable to afford the treatment, surgery, or tests, the visits, etc, and giving them hope and the means they need to help their pets. We firmly believe that pets aren’t just pets, they are family and should be treated as delicately and lovingly as anyone else! 
> 
> We are in the planning stages and need to raise **$3,000** in order to kick start the paperwork because in the first year, **our goal is 100K in the first 12 months of establishing ourselves** to help others. Currently, we have a lawyer helping us through this, we have several local businesses on board with placing Charity Boxes in their establishment, and we have a Vet on board as well. This is so extremely close to my and my families heart, so we’re making sure to take the precious time to build this Charity into what it was meant to become. 
> 
> Our website is in production to tell Bear’s story from her rough start to life to the very end. Once it’s done, I’ll post it for everyone! **If you’re interested and want to know how to help out, please feel free to contact me. If you’re uncomfortable sharing your email, you can leave a comment, or reach out to me on my tumblr at[@lovethecrystalrose](http://lovethecrystalrose.tumblr.com). Otherwise, shoot me an email to find out how to help – my email is on my profile.**
> 
> Anyways, thank you to GreatRageShortLegs for giving me a swift kick in the ass and lending me a helping hand! This story was commissioned to be finished and she deserves the credit! You are amazing, girl, and I cannot express enough how much I’m grateful! I hope you, and all my readers, enjoy the conclusion! 
> 
> Also, I have a ko-fi page, which I will also be using to gather donations for the Charity! If you want to support me and/or the Charity, stop by and say hi, or whatever, then buy me a coffee! 
> 
> Thank you everyone and blesses! Enjoy the chapter! We're so close to the end! 
> 
> **WARNING: Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!**
> 
> _Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own._

 

 

**__ **

**_Prompt – Day 6: Guilty Pleasure_ **

Another month came and went before Bulma saw Vegeta again.

She was sitting in group therapy, her knees drawn up to her chest as they waited for their session to begin when he walked into the room. She froze at spotting him, her eyes wide and unblinking as he took his seat in the center of the room with a clipboard.

Without making eye contact with her, he began talking about their agenda for the day, but she heard none of it as she took him in. He looked to be completely fine, unaffected by the fact that he hadn’t seen her in over a month. She wondered if he even bothered to check on her progress. He was gesturing with his hands, his back ramrod straight and his appearance one associated with a drill sergeant – firm and no sass.

Then, he pointed to the door and in walked another person, a young girl with blonde hair that was messy and tangled in large, robust curls. She was avoiding eye contact with everyone and her hands kept pulling at her sleeves constantly, stretching the fabric as she stood beside his chair. Vegeta was now standing and she realized he was introducing a new patient, but Bulma hadn’t listened to a single thing he said.

His hand was on her shoulder as his mouth moved, but she zeroed in on the touch as a spark of jealousy ignited within her. In the last month since her conversation with Evelyn, she had done fairly well, only ever having masturbated twice. It was progress and her therapist seemed happy by it despite a few setbacks.

_“Recovery is a road paved with relapses,”_ she had said. _“It’s okay, it’s going to happen.”_

It was a small comfort, one that Bulma allowed herself to partake in when it happened the second time. She had fought hard, it had been three weeks since she had any satisfaction, and finally the tether she was holding onto had snapped.

It had happened during movie night.

Quickly dismissing herself from the room, Bulma ran to the bathroom and shucked her pants away before propping her leg up on the toilet and sought her clit out. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as the sensation took over, her brain flooding her body with endorphins as she rubbed furiously. She was slick, her fingers creating the wet sound as she delved between her thighs in search of release.

Mumbles and incomprehensible moans fell from her lips as she thrusted her fingers inside her, her forehead meeting the stall wall as she whimpered. She bit her lip hard, so hard in fact it bled. Her fingers weren’t enough, but they would have to do. If anyone came into that bathroom, she knew her lust-filled haze blinded her so much she would’ve mounted them and rode her waves out.

Part of her, the rational part, begged the door outside to remain shut. She hoped no one would come.

It took her a while for her climax to explode, her body angry with her for being starved as it punished her, keeping the thing she needed most away.

“Please,” she begged herself. “Oh God, please!”

Her hand grew tired, but removing it wasn’t an option. Nothing seemed to be working.

That is, until she thought of Vegeta and the moment he took her from behind.

It had been slow and sweet, his cock pushing its way into her so smoothly her body didn’t even protest. Her back had arched and her hands clutched the table within the janitor’s closet as he filled her.

_“Shh,” he hushed her when she whimpered loudly._

_“But, I…” Bulma protested breathlessly._

_“I know,” he said. Inch by slow inch, he pressed into her, his large hands holding her hips steady as her warm center swallowed him. “You have to be quiet.”_

_Bulma’s mouth fell open when he was fully seated inside her, but she groaned impatiently when he didn’t move. He shushed her once more and she groaned, “Move!”_

_“No.”_

_Her forehead hit the surface of the table. “Please,” she begged as she tried to wiggle her hips. It was impossible._

_“No.” He pressed against her, making her immobile as he bent over her, his bare chest meeting her bare back. A delicate kiss found its way on the nape of her neck._

_It took her a bit to realize what he was doing. He was savoring this moment. First her dorm, now this. Their fucking’s had become more, and she wasn’t sure when they had crossed the line from fuck buddies to lovers, but that’s what this felt like; a tryst._

_“Vegeta,” she moaned quietly._

_Reaching back, she combed her fingers into his mane and held his head to her neck. A breath of relief left her when he finally began to thrust, the motion slow, long, and deep. Her body rocked against the table and she turned her head to look at him to find his eyelids heavy with lust and another emotion she was afraid to name. Grasping his head, her lips ghosted over his mouth._

_“Come with me,” he murmured as they moved as one._

Bulma groaned as her fingers scissored inside her and her orgasm left her in a heap in the bathroom stall.

Afterwards, she felt ashamed for relapsing, but more so, she was emotional at the memory that overtook her. In the janitor’s closet, she realized the extent of her relationship with Vegeta and why it hurt so much that he left her.

In the weeks they were together, Bulma had fallen in love with him, and when he left, instead of blaming herself for her actions, she resented him for abandoning her.

But he didn’t, really.

He had made sure she got the help she needed, and it wasn’t him.

It took her a long time to come to terms with that and looking upon him now only served to remind her of this. Vegeta was a psychologist and Bulma was a patient. He didn’t abandon her at all, he had placed her with a well competent therapist who was capable and stern enough to call her on her bullshit. In the month they were apart, she had made more progress than she had under his supervision. She should be grateful.

And she was.

But looking upon him now as he walked about the room, having already introduced the newest member and moved on, Bulma remembered that her emotional epiphany came with a side dish.

During their intimate moment in the janitor’s closet, the look in his eyes, the unnamed emotion, wasn’t foreign by any means. She recognized it, but it was frightening to witness, especially directed at her. She had seen something similar in Yamcha’s face a period ago, in her father’s face when looking at her mother when she wasn’t aware, and she saw it in Goku’s face when he gazed at Chi-Chi as she laughed.

Love wasn’t something she associated with Vegeta. He was a womanizer; the label usually lacked commitment or any association with love. But he had it in his eyes when he bent her over and slid into her. He had in it his eyes when he came rushing to her aid the night of her mistake, and he had it in his eyes when he left her alone in her dorm as he dropped her as a patient.

He wasn’t callous.

His actions were out of kindness, concern, and overall intelligence.

Out of the two of them, he had come to his senses before her and out of the two of them, he had more to lose.

Bulma was a right idiot – a selfish person who had only thought of herself. Not once during their time together did she consider how much he had laid on the line to be with her, but she was sure it had crossed his mind. So wrapped up in her addiction, she didn’t care about the consequence her actions would’ve had on his life.

He could’ve lost his license, his job, and more than likely have been prosecuted. His reputation as one of the best psychologists would’ve been sullied, his career ruined, all because she had a thing for his dick.

At night, while in bed, Bulma often thought of Vegeta. She used it as practice, especially when she was aroused. It was extremely difficult, but it was also a well-deserved punishment, not to mention a guilty pleasure of hers. It pleased her to no end knowing she had experienced a side of him no one else had, and her heart ached when she thought of how she’d never have it again.

“Okay, let’s open the floor,” she heard Vegeta announce.

Blinking back to reality, she noticed he had taken his seat and the girl was three chairs away from her, curled in on herself and scowling at her nails. The room, otherwise, was quiet. Peeking across the way, she saw Goku leaning on his elbow, his silent behavior odd as he normally kicked things off. Beside him, Evelyn met her eyes with a knowing look before shifting her gaze to Vegeta pointedly.

_Talk!_ Her eyes screamed.

Bulma shook her head, terrified at the prospect of saying anything while he was in the room. Why would he want to hear anything she had to say anyways?

Five chairs to her right, Chi-Chi saw the exchange and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She raised her hand. “I’ll start.”

Vegeta nodded and sat back, his leg crossing over the other as he trained his eyes on her.

Shifting in her chair, Chi-Chi cleared her throat. “I had a setback this last month. I didn’t say anything the last few times we were in session because I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I’ve been pretty good at controlling my anger, but something happened that set me off.”

Turning her eyes to Bulma, she huffed, “I know something happened, Bulma. I’m pissed that you won’t talk to me!”

The young heiress stiffened as eyes turned to her. Goku looked shocked and Vegeta had paled when he caught on.

Angry, she retaliated, “You think calling me out _here_ will get me to talk to you?!”

“What the fuck else am I to do?! My boyfriend won’t say anything to me about it, he won’t talk to you, and you won’t tell me what happened! Fuck!” she screamed as her fists pounded on the armrest.

“Chi-Chi,” Vegeta warned as his eyes shifted to Bulma for the first time.

She looked away, ashamed.

“It’s none of your business,” Bulma stated matter-of-factly. “Why can’t you respect the fact that I don’t want to talk about it?”

Her friend looked at her, appalled. “None of my business?” She repeated before gesturing to Goku. “Whatever the fuck happened between you two has placed me in a position that I don’t fucking care to be in! I feel like I’m being forced to choose a side whenever I’m around either of you! What happened can’t be so bad that neither of you won’t talk!”

Rolling her eyes, Bulma said, “You’re being dramatic!”

“B…” Evelyn interrupted. “I think what she’s trying to say,” the blonde began as she glanced at Chi-Chi who glared at her. The woman either didn’t care or didn’t notice as she turned back to the bluenette, “Is that your fight with Goku, whatever it’s about, shouldn’t be ruined by this incident.”

There was a huff. “I guess,” came the reply from the dark-haired girl. “That was too nicely put, though.”

“And you,” Evelyn turned to Chi-Chi, “have a habit of sticking your nose where it shouldn’t be, and you know it! Maybe if you were a little nicer and more approachable, Bulma would be more willing to talk to you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“Okay, okay,” Vegeta sliced his hand through the air. “That’s enough. Perhaps we should cut this short, tensions are too high for this to continue.”

Bulma eyed him and noticed he glanced at her once more. She knew why he wanted this to end and she felt nervous at the turn of the conversation herself.

“Boyfriend?” Goku timidly brought up before the session was called.

Chi-Chi blushed when she realized what she had said. She shrugged. “Well… Aren’t you?”

He bowed his head shyly and smiled, earning him a rewarding bright smile in return. As everyone stood, Bulma sat in her chair and watched her roommate rush over and throw her arms around Goku with a small squeal. She couldn’t smile, but she didn’t frown. Instead, she felt envious of what was blossoming between them and there was a spark of sadness that she had once had that, and she ruined it.

As Vegeta stood, her eyes met his momentarily, and the weight in both their gazes was heavy with meaning. He looked away first and Bulma’s brow furrowed as she glanced down at her lap. She watched him out of the corner of her eyes as he made his way to the door, the new blonde woman following after him reluctantly. Turning her head slightly, she saw Dr. Boardman waiting by the entrance with a small smile as she conversed with Vegeta, and then the young woman, nodding occasionally before the young girl made her leave.

The two doctors lingered as everyone left, and Bulma used this moment to stand as well. As she did so, she saw Dr. Boardman smile softly and place a hand on Vegeta’s forearm, a gentle look in her eyes as she spoke to him.

Swallowing heavily, she tried hard now to focus on the touch, but it was difficult knowing their past. Their close proximity was enough to make Bulma suspicious and jealous, but she practiced a calm exterior as she begun to follow the last group out. Just as she made it passed the man who haunted her thoughts, someone tugged on her arm and she flinched and paused.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw Goku snatching his hand away quickly before he gave her a small, hesitant smile.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

Bulma opened her mouth but her eyes caught Dr. Boardman and Vegeta walking down the hall together closely and she closed her mouth to swallow the pain. She wanted to tell him no so she could spy on them, she wanted to be petty and confront Vegeta and demand an explanation for his absence, but what good would that do?

She nodded. “Sure.”

Her eyes lingered on the retreating backs of the two doctors before she followed Goku back into the now empty conference room. He closed the door behind them, peeking out to make sure they were truly alone before turning to her.

“Are you okay?”

Bulma blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his concerned question. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Goku stared at her. “You’re not, are you?”

She looked away. “Is anyone in this place alright?”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his sweats and shuffled from foot to foot nervously. “Chi-Chi shouldn’t have done that,” he began.

Bulma shook her head and held up her hand. “Don’t apologize for her.”

“I’m not,” he corrected. “I’m apologizing for me.” Sighing, Goku licked his lips and said, “She was right. What happened… It wasn’t your fault, and I didn’t want you to think that I was angry with you.”

She crossed her arms tightly. “I did, though. What we did, what happened… What I did… It was intentional.”

“But you weren’t in control,” he told her, his face grave and stern. “I wanted to help, but I just didn’t know… I thought it was best to stay away after we were caught.”

“That’s why…?”

“Yeah,” Goku mused sheepishly. “Also, because…”

When he trailed off and didn’t finish, Bulma cocked a brow and tilted her head. “Because what?”

Taking a deep breath, the action a show of embarrassment, he finished, “Because I knew that if I hung around, and made things any worse… I know next time I probably wouldn’t put up much of a fight like I did before.”

Her eyes widened, and he blushed at his confession. “Oh,” she breathed in astonishment.

“Yeah.” It was hard to meet her eyes. “Don’t tell Chi-Chi.”

Bulma shook her head. “I won’t. I haven’t.” She licked her lips and pursed them together. “But, I also wouldn’t blame you if you told her.”

Goku chuckled. “Yeah, and live with her wrath? You know how she is. I think it’s probably best she never finds out.”

“Are you sure?” she asked despite the immense relief she felt at his decision.

He nodded vehemently. “Yes. I’m all for honesty, but sometimes… I don’t know. I think sometimes the truth does more harm.”

Bulma bowed her head in both acknowledgment and shame. She was relieved that her friend wouldn’t find out, but now she knew both her and Goku would have to carry this burden between them forever and she wasn’t sure how that would play out.

She could only hope it wouldn’t eat her alive.

“So… you and Ouji, huh?”

Bulma paled and jerked back. “What?!”

Goku had a hand pressed to the back of his neck, his palm rubbing as he gazed down at the floor. “I may seem slow, but I’m not stupid. It wasn’t hard to figure out there’s something going on between you two when he came bursting into the room.” Lifting a shoulder, he glanced at her. “He looked frantic and, strangely, hurt.”

She didn’t know what to say, her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide in horror, shame, and awe. She had truly underestimated Goku.

“Now, I’m not going to pretend I know exactly what it is,” he continued, seemingly oblivious by her shocked silence. “And maybe it isn’t my place, but as your friend, I don’t think it’s smart.”

She bit her lip, the lie on the tip of her tongue, ready to deny his words reflexively. If he figured it out, who else knew? Her heart hammered with worry.

The concern was palpable and Goku reached across to place a hand on her shoulder. “I haven’t said anything to anyone, Bulma.”

She shook her head, her mouth unable to form words.

“I won’t, either.”

“Why?” The question popped out without her permission.

“Would it make you feel better if I did?” He countered as he pulled his hand away.

When did he become so insightful? Tears sprung to her eyes and she hugged herself.

“What would happen if I did?” He was testing her, and she knew.

Licking her lips, she answered slowly, “They would fire him. He would lose his license, his right to practice, and probably either be prosecuted or sued; maybe both. There may be some jail time. His reputation would be sullied…” She heaved a sigh. “My family would pull their funds from the facility and sue for incompetence and negligence. I would be placed somewhere else – maybe _Capital Hill Health and Home_ …if they would take me, that is. I’m a liability now.” Peeking up at him with immense guilt, she added quietly, “You would lose your grant.”

Goku scoffed. “I’m not keeping my mouth shut because of the stupid grant!”

Bulma’s brows furrowed. “Then why?”

His eyes rolled. “Because you’re still my friend. Just listen to the things you said! How much it’ll put you through! Would you rather risk all your progress by telling the truth?”

“So, you’re telling me to live with it?”

He frowned deeply. “No. I’m asking you what’s worth more.”

Taken aback, Bulma didn’t notice that her tears had stopped as she pondered his words. What was worth more? Alleviating her guilt or continuing the path she was on? Both had dire consequences.

Which one could she live with?

Depleted and desolated, she answered in a breathless tone, “I don’t know.” Her face fell. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

Goku said nothing, his eyes solemn as he stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug. Bulma felt her body tense with arousal, but she ignored it as she closed her eyes and accepted the comfort as the burden of her actions settled heavy on her shoulders.

 

***

 

There was a spot on the floor that caught Bulma’s attention.

Her focus today was off as she stared, and she forgot, briefly, where she was and what she was supposed to be doing. Her mind wandered back to her conversation with Goku, his question like a broken record playing in a constant loop in her mind.

What was worth more to her?

It took her awhile to figure it out and unfortunately, the way she had fallen upon the answer was neither helpful or reassuring.

Two more months went by where she struggled. Two long months of accidental run-ins with Vegeta and awkward intimate encounters that forced her to retreat to her dorm where she would shuck her pants down to her ankles, collapse on the bed, spread her legs, and seek relief. She wanted to blame him, she wanted to hate him, but try as she might, it was impossible.

She told herself it was better to be in his presence – it was good practice, a way to heal – but the more she saw him, the more painful the ache in her chest and between her thighs grew. She longed for him in many different ways that it was becoming torturous just to sneak a glance of him.

Hearing his voice was even worse – the reaction it presented was strong as tears sprung to her eyes and burned her irises. She always made a quick escape and never attended group sessions when he hosted them. She didn’t care if her behavior was suspicious, she just simply couldn’t handle it.

The feelings he provoked inside her made her loathe herself and it was becoming too much to take.

She needed an escape.

It was the day she fell across him and Dr. Boardman that she realized how deep she was in it. They were in his office with the door opened, but they were speaking close together with Vegeta sitting down and Boardman leaning against his desk facing him.

They never noticed her as she pressed herself near the doorframe and the long window, her body obscured by the wall as she peaked inside. She couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about, but their body language was enough to tell her that their conversation was more personal than professional.

It wasn’t the fact that they were talking. No, it was that Vegeta wore a small smirk on his face as he gazed up at the woman; a flicker of amusement in his eyes combined with heat. It stopped her heart – the look familiar, too familiar. It was one he had often gifted her with while they were together, secreting themselves away for a private moment.

What was worth more to her?

At that moment, while gazing at his face and observing how relaxed and laid back and even happy he appeared, it hit her. It was like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath from her lungs and winding her. She turned away from the scene and pressed her back to the wall as her face crumbled upon realizing that no matter what she decided, she would never truly get what she wanted.

They would never have a future.

So, what was worth more to her?

She knew. She just didn’t like it.

“Bulma?”

Blinking several times, she lifted her head to gaze at the woman across from her before she frowned.

“Have you heard anything I’ve said?” Dr. Boardman asked.

No, she hadn’t. She was too busy being self-absorbed in her conflicts and now, her eyes shifted to the items on the woman’s desk as her stomach turned to stone. Oh, right. She had sought out the woman she had an aversion for due to her history with the man she…fucked? Cared about?

Loved?

She wasn’t sure.

“What did you need?” the doctor asked once more.

Sighing, Bulma’s jaw tightened as she fidgeted in place. Her eyes pinned to the plaque that sat on the doctor’s desk, her credentials engraved and golden and bright. If she had her way, she would’ve gone to any other person for what she needed, but Dr. Boardman was it.

“I want to transfer to _Capital Hill_.”


	7. Stage Seven: Facing Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN: For the [@tpthvegebulsmutfest](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com). So… I hope you weren’t expecting fluff and happiness. Be prepared.
> 
> Anyways, thank you to GreatRageShortLegs for giving me a swift kick in the ass and lending me a helping hand! This story was commissioned to be finished and she deserves the credit! You are amazing, girl, and I cannot express enough how much I’m grateful! I hope you, and all my readers, enjoy the conclusion!
> 
> Also, I have a ko-fi page, which I will also be using to gather donations for the Charity! If you want to support me and/or the Charity, stop by and say hi, or whatever, then buy me a coffee!
> 
> 1 more chapter after this!
> 
> **WARNING: Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!**
> 
> _Unbeat'd. All mistakes are my own! Please forgive me for them :)_

 

**__ **

**_Prompt – Day 7: After Glow_ **

 

“Tell me it isn’t true!”

Bulma lifted her head from her tray of food to glance up at the dark head of the glowering woman that was her roommate. Chi-Chi towered over her, a tray of her own in her hands before she slammed it down on the table and placed those same angry fists on her hips in, what appeared to be, an intimidating stance.

It wasn’t.

“It isn’t true?” The bluenette repeated unsure with a squint.

“Don’t placate me, acting like you don’t know what I’m fucking talking about!” Her friend shrieked and wagged a finger.

Taking a bite of her salad, Bulma cocked a brow, swallowed, and shrugged. “I really don’t. You might as well just tell me what I’ve done wrong now because I hate guessing games.”

Beside her, the seat pulled out and Evelyn dropped down before arranging her tray. “So, _Capitol Hill_ , huh?”

Bulma nodded as she stabbed her fork into her salad bowl again.

“Nice!” the girl said as she bumped her shoulder encouragingly.

“Nice?!” Chi-Chi’s mouth dropped. “That’s what you have to say about this? Nice?!”

Evelyn glanced up to the infuriated and shook her head. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Not nice!”

The blonde frowned deeply at the display of emotion. “What is wrong with you? Bulma’s going to continue her treatment, shouldn’t you be proud of her?”

Chi-Chi paused and fidgeted for a second before her anger returned. “What’s wrong with this place? Why can’t you stay here?”

Bulma glanced at Evelyn, sharing a look before she sighed. “They’re just better suited.”

“Better suited,” the girl repeated slowly. She wasn’t buying it. “That’s such bullshit!”

“Hey!” Evelyn glared.

“They finally got chicken wings!” Goku interrupted, his face bright and his tray full of the fried meat as he took a seat across from the two girls. He looked up to find his girlfriend breathing heavily, nostrils flaring, and eyes locked in a glare with the blonde. His smile dwindled. “What’s going on?”

Ignoring him, Chi-Chi pushed. “Is it because of this thing between you and Goku?”

The man stiffened and Bulma shifted her eyes to him, a look of reassurance in their depths.

“No.”

“What’s going on?” He repeated for the second time.

“The thing between Goku and I got squashed, remember?” She smiled at the confused and clueless guy. “Right, Goku?”

He nodded. “Yeah! We’re fine! But what does that have to do with anything?”

Chi-Chi cocked a thumb in his direction and demanded, “Tell him!”

“Hey, you remember that thing I said a few weeks back about you butting in where you don’t belong,” Evelyn stated as she placed her chin on the back of her hands. Her eyes were flat. “Yeah, stop doing it.”

“Shut up! No one asked you!”

“Exactly! And no one asked you!”

“Okay, girls,” Goku chuckled nervously. “As much as I love a good fight, this doesn’t look or sound fun.” He turned to his girlfriend and pulled the seat out next to him. “Chi, why don’t you sit?”

“I’d rather stand!” She snapped stubbornly.

“Please?”

She stood there with her fists on her hips for a few moments longer before she finally caved and fell ungracefully into the seat.

“Now, will you tell him?” She asked through gritted teeth.

Bulma dabbed her face with a napkin before sighing and leaning her cheek against her clasped hands. Her eyes met Goku’s once more. “I asked to be transferred to _Capitol Hill_ _Health and Home_ two weeks ago. It got approved yesterday.”

His eyes bugged. “What?”

“Yeah,” she murmured as her eyes lowered to the table. Underneath, she felt Evelyn pat her leg.

“Wow,” he breathed in awe as he sat back. “When?”

“I leave in three days.”

A sad look crossed his face, but his smile was encouraging and filled with pride. “Good for you!”

“Good for you?” Chi-Chi turned in her chair to stare at him in disbelief. “What the hell, Goku?!”

“What?” He asked with his hands held up to ward her off.

“We are not happy about this! Be pissed with me!”

“Why?” He looked nervous and confused. “This is a huge step; shouldn’t we be happy for her?”

“Absolutely not!” She slapped his arm. “Now put your angry face on, dammit!”

He sat there for a moment before attempting to do as she demanded. His face contorted comically, his nose scrunched up, his mouth turned downward towards his chin, and his chin jutting out far. He slatted his eyes so close together, they were almost shut completely. He held the expression for but a moment before he burst into laughter.

“I can’t,” he snorted.

Across from him, the two girls chuckled at his failed endeavor.

“You suck at acting,” Evelyn commented with a grin. She turned to Bulma and immediately, her smile vanished, her eyes dulled into emotionless pits, and her lips thinned into an intimidating scowl. It was hard to pinpoint whether the look was angry, disappointed, or enraged, but the bottomless depths of her eyes was unsettling compared to moments ago when they were once filled with life and happiness.

A shiver ran down the young heiress’s spine and she exhaled, “Damn.”

“Stop!” Chi-Chi bellowed as all eyes turned to her. She heaved a breath and flexed her hands atop the table. “Just tell me why.”

“I feel the urge to sing Backstreet Boys, now,” Bulma murmured with a slight grin as she sipped at her water.

“What?” the dark-haired girl frowned in confusion.

She shook her head and sighed. “Never mind.” Setting her cup down, she ran a palm down her face and said, “It’s complicated, Chi.”

“Uncomplicate it, then!”

Rolling her eyes, she stated, “I can’t. You know it isn’t that easy.”

“Chi…” Goku placed his hand on her shoulder. “Let it go.”

The girl frowned up at him deeply, her eyes set in a firm scowl of disagreement. Turning back, she asked, “Is it me?”

Bulma’s brow knitted in surprise. “What? Why would you think that?”

Fidgeting with her fingers, Chi-Chi looked anxious. “I know I’m difficult to live with…”

“Not everything’s about you,” Evelyn growled. It was clear that the blonde merely tolerated her roommate for her sake solely. That was disappointing.

“Whatever,” Chi-Chi murmured before she pushed her chair away and stood, her intentions clear as her body turned to depart.

Bulma winced. “Chi, come on! Don’t be like this!”

The girl waved her hand dismissively as she took off, her posture tense and rigid as she disappeared from the canteen. The young heiress threw her hands up and shared a look with her companions that expressed her frustration.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?! It’s like I can’t win!”

“Stop it!” A nail pinched her arm. “She’s not your problem.”

Goku sighed. “As much as this bothers me, Eighteens right.” He gave Bulma a reassuring smile. “She’ll eventually come around. Just give her time.”

Bulma depressed in her seat and shoved her tray away. “How the hell did she even find out, anyway?”

“Probably the same way I did,” Evelyn said as she shoved more food in her mouth.

“How?”

After swallowing, a sly smirk appeared on her lips. “Chi-Chi isn’t the only one who’s pissed about your transfer.”

“What? Who else knows?! What the fuck happened to confidentiality?!”

“That doesn’t exist between doctors,” the girl told her with a knowing look.

Bulma’s mouth turned into an ‘O’ as a look of surprised shown in her eyes. “Shit,” she muttered as her head fell into her hands. “When?”

“I overheard Ouji giving Boardman hell yesterday.” There was a chuckle. “It didn’t sound sexy by any means. Poor girl was shaking in her boots.”

“He knows…”

“Well,” Goku cleared his throat as he reached across the table for Chi-Chi’s abandoned tray. Pulling it towards him, he began to peruse the contents. “He was bound to find out eventually, right?”

Combing her hands through her hair, Bulma felt her heart rapidly increase its pace with a flood of panic. “Yeah, but I was hoping I’d be gone before that happened!”

A look of bemusement crossed his face. “I don’t get it. Isn’t this what he wanted? What you both wanted?”

“Yes…No…” She groaned once more before resting her head on the flat surface of the table in despair. “I don’t know!”

“I’m confused… Yes or no?”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “You really are an idiot virgin if you can’t read between the lines! No, neither of them want this, but shit happens!”

Silence stretched at her awkward insult and she eyed the two suspiciously. A bright blush passed over his cheeks as he spared Bulma a glance before shifting his eyes away uncomfortably.

“You _are_ a virgin, right?” Looking over at her friend, she leaned in close and murmured, “You never did explain fully what happened, you know!”

Bristling, Bulma scowled. “This is completely beside the point and way off topic!” She stiffened when she saw Vegeta enter the cafeteria and her eyes widened. “Shit, shit, shit! He’s here!” A terrified shriek echoed from her throat before she ducked down behind Evelyn.

The blonde jerked in violent surprise as Bulma forced her to turn to shield her slender body. “Fuck, girl! Calm down!”

“I don’t want him to see me!”

“Well, screaming and manhandling me isn’t cause for attention at all!” Was the snarky response.

“Hey, Ouji!” Goku smiled and waved, obtuse as always.

“Goku!” Bulma reproached with horror.

“Uh-oh, here he comes,” Evelyn muttered with a smirk as she took control of her chair and pivoted to face the table.

“Fuck…” the bluenette sat up straight and fluttered about in her seat while she observed the room for a quick escape. “I do not want to deal with this right now!”

“Looks like you don’t have a choice, darling.”

The trio watched the stoic man make his way across the room, his back rigid and his posture full of pride with an air of professionalism. It made Bulma’s mouth water knowing that beneath the suit he wore, he was all dips, muscle, tanned skin, and slim hips that knew exactly how to slam into her.

A pool of wetness stained her pants and she clenched her thighs together as she chanted in her head, _I will walk through my fear_ , over and over. Her hands fisted tightly in her lap, so tight her nails dug into her palms before a hand curled around her knuckles and pried her fingers away.

She sent a thankful smile to Evelyn as she gripped her hand.

“Stay strong,” Goku mouthed as Vegeta approached the table. She glared at him, realizing he wasn’t obtuse at all, but instead forcing her to face the situation. She swallowed heavily when the large shadow of the man fell over their table.

“Ouji,” Evelyn greeted with a nod.

He nodded back but his eyes stayed stationary on Bulma who stared back.

“Hi,” she murmured quietly.

“Miss Briefs,” he said, his tone formal and dispassionate. It hurt to hear it so flat. “I just wanted to wish you luck at _Capitol Hill_.”

“Oh,” she breathed, her chest tight and her face wanting to crumble. It was a miracle she was able to remain cordial and removed. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “They’re an excellent facility. I’ve a few colleagues over there, so you should be in good hands.” Even as he said this, Bulma could tell it was forced despite his incredible poker face.

It broke her heart.

“Good,” was all she managed to say. “I’m glad.” Unable to release Evelyn’s hand, she licked her lips and tightened her hold. “Um… Thank you for everything you were able to do for me. I know you… the facility,” she quickly corrected, “had my best interests at heart.”

His eyes softened, but he offered no smile before he turned and left, taking the shattered pieces of her heart with him as he went. Bulma was shaking with emotion, confused by his abrupt and detached demeanor – the cold weight of his eyes leaving a hole in her chest.

Even though he didn’t show it, he was angry, insulted even. Was transferring throwing everything they had back in his face? She wasn’t sure. Maybe he saw it that way. Maybe he didn’t.

Reading him was always difficult, no matter how much easier it had become – Vegeta was still a mystery.

The other two at the table let out a breath, their eyes glued to the girl who seemed too lost in her own mind to realize she was being stared at.

“Wow,” Goku whistled. “That was…”

“Intense.” Evelyn finished. She wiggled her hand to garner her friend’s attention. “You okay?”

Bulma’s chin began to wobble and she looked down. “No,” she admitted before taking in a deep breath and lifting her head high. “But, I will be.”

 

***

 

It was close to one in the morning as Bulma made her way down the hall of the dormitories. Sleep was evading her, her stomach a corded knot of anxiety as the day of her transfer hung in the horizon. The small, bittersweet goodbye she had with Vegeta played in a constant loop in her mind, preventing her precious sleep from sweeping her away.

It was forbidden to walk the facility after curfew, but thankfully, Bulma had memorized the patrol schedule very quickly and knew all the blind spots of the cameras. It wasn’t hard. She stuck to the corners and the short hallways as she drifted along, her slippered feet slapping against the cold tile floor was the only thing that made any kind of noise.

Everyone was asleep, the halls were dead, and the staff had all gone home long ago. She didn’t mind the quiet, but this was the first time in a while that Bulma felt lonely.

She was leaving in the morning, heading to a place where she knew no one and further separating herself from the life she had made, the life that wasn’t healthy to live.

She never knew recovery could be so hard and exhausting; having shunned her problem for so long left her in a state of denial which only increased the painful journey she was on into one of complete agony. For a genius, she reasoned, she was incredibly stupid and lacked self-preservation.

Either way, Bulma had come to her senses.

Staying here would only bring about more temptation and further disrupt her recovery. In the end, she had discovered that even though Vegeta appeared strong and was more aware and conscious of what they had done, he was just as weak as she was. If she stayed, she was positive they would fall back into old ways, only this time, it would lead to his unemployment, possible imprisonment, and she couldn’t let that happen.

More or less, she would be kicked out of the facility, sent packing to a lesser place that was barely qualified—either that or she’d have to move across the country before the news spread. In comparison, he had much more to lose, it felt.

But really, she had just as much to lose.

When it came down to it, asking herself what was worth more had led to a decision she wasn’t prepared for. Option one was to stay and attempt to ignore these feelings, avoid Vegeta at all costs as she carried out the rest of her treatment. But that also meant she would have to avoid Goku, further sullying her friendship with Chi-Chi, and in the end, she would’ve probably fucked Evelyn just for the quick release and thus, lose that friendship because it wouldn’t have meant anything to her. An orgasm was just that, it didn’t come with promises for more.

Option two was to check herself out and give up. That would mean losing her position within Capsule Corp, her family more than likely writing her out of their will. She’d lose her inheritance, the trust, and Capsule Corp would be sold off at her father’s passing. She’d get nothing. Yamcha would turn his back on her for abandoning her treatment, and Bulma would continue on fucking her way through life until eventually contracting a disease that ultimate does her in, or becoming pregnant with a faceless man’s child.

Morbid, but that’s how she saw it.

Or, there was option three. The option that provided distance, allowed her to keep her friendships, and still save herself.

Deciding to transfer was difficult, but she knew it was for the best. Her feelings were too strong to stay, and she knew she would eventually come to temptation while in Vegeta’s presence. She had to leave.

She cared for him too much, she cared for herself too much, to allow such a future to come to fruition.

Bulma came upon the administration’s hall and she paused when she saw a dull light flicker beneath a doorway. Glancing up, she saw the plaque of Vegeta Ouji imprinted on the door and her breathe caught. What was he still doing here?

Curious, she pushed forward, reluctant to draw attention to herself. Turning her head, her ear pressed against the door, but all she heard inside was the clinking of glass and the melody of a classical song she was unfamiliar with. Another puzzle to the mystery that was Vegeta. He liked classical music.

Compelled by some unknown force, she rapped her knuckle and waited.

A long pause and the scratch of vinyl that made her wince before finally, the door creaked open to a bleary eyed Vegeta. He gazed down at her in befuddlement before swaggering backward. “It’s passed curfew,” he muttered with a slight slur.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, eyeing him with deep concern. “You’re drunk…”

He chuckled as he fell into his chair and held up a tumbler. “Only a little. What concern is it of yours?”

She sighed as she approached his desk, her observing gaze falling on the half empty bottle of bourbon on his desk before noting the already empty beer bottles in the trash behind him. “From my knowledge, a man drinking by himself after midnight while playing sad songs is usually cause for concern. Either he’s had his heart broken or the drink is his crutch.” Holding her breath, she asked, “Which one are you?”

He swallowed and gave her a condescending grin, his lips wet. “You think you know everything, don’t you?”

Bulma shook her head. “I never claimed that.”

Sloshing his drink as he gestured, he pointed, “Coming in here, seducing me with your… your…” He waved his free hand along her body, unable to come up with the words. “And then when I’m not available to stick my cock in you, you find another desperate soul to do the deed after calling me just so I can witness the end credits. People like you,” he wagged his finger at her, “…people like you… manipulators is what you are.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed as a sense of hurt cut through her. “Vegeta, stop. You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re saying!” She reached for the bourbon, but he was quicker, snatching it and setting it in his lap.

“No,” he sneered. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” He stood and poured himself another glass, accidentally spilling a few drops as he did so. “Giving me those eyes and shit… Making me feel things I don’t feel.”

Her eyes burned as she watched him down the glass in full. “I’ve never manipulated you,” she defended weakly, all the while wondering where the caring man she had come to know had gone to. This, she realized, was the most painful consequence of her uncontrollable vulgar actions.

Hurting Yamcha had been one thing. It was difficult to bear – she cared for him greatly, but Vegeta was different. Their connection ran deep, he understood her, they had shared themselves in ways they had never shared anything with anyone. And she had hurt him.

It was a revelation, an awful one, knowing a man who seemed so disconnected from the world, someone who appeared to be made of solid steel, could break.

He fisted his shirt in his tight grip, his hand over his heart as he growled, “I don’t do feelings! What the fuck did you do to me?!”

“Nothing!” she replied, her voice breaking.

A bitter laugh erupted from him. “To think I almost fell for it,” he muttered as he rounded the desk, his hand holding onto the solid surface to keep him from tumbling over. “Never in the thirty-three years I’ve been alive have I ever thought twice about a woman. Until you,” he said, his face grim and filled with unfiltered emotions that was so staggering, Bulma had to hold herself steady to keep from collapsing.

In this moment, he was unreserved.

“There’s nothing special about you,” he continued in bafflement, and Bulma realized he was speaking more to himself than to her. “You fuck good, but otherwise, what is there about you? I don’t understand why I feel this way!”

“Vegeta…” she pleaded, for what, she wasn’t sure. The tears were flowing freely as her heart crumbled with each word he tossed carelessly.

“You’re selfish, I’m selfish. But…” he sighed and leaned heavily against the desk, his body sliding one way precariously. “I tried to help you… I knew what we were doing wasn’t good. I’m a doctor and I fucked a patient, and I don’t know why!” His voice grew soft and his eyes, distant. “Did you know you’re the first woman I’ve ever slept with?”

She chewed her lips, tasting her tears as she listened to him babble nonsense.

He cracked a smile, one that was cocky and smug. “Well, not _slept with_ , but actually slept by.” He swaggered over to her, holding the desk as he stood close. A finger rose to trace her cheeks, the tip getting wet with her tears. “You were just so soft, and I’m not.”

Finding the courage to speak, Bulma whispered, “It’s okay to feel something for me… It happens. You can’t control it.”

He shook his head and wagged his finger, the glass in his hand slipping. “No, no it isn’t. It’s brrooonngg,” he drew out with a slur. His brow crinkled. “Brong… Berrooonngg…” He shook his head and frowned. “Wrong,” he tried again. Tapping her nose, he said softly, “Loving you is wrong.”

She gasped, her eyes going stark wide and her mouth falling open at his drunken admission.

Vegeta closed his eyes and groaned. “Ah, shit.” He leaned heavily against the desk by his hip and used his free hand to rub at his eyes, the heel of his palm digging into the sockets hard. “I hope this is a dream, because saying that was…”

“You love me?” Bulma gazed up at him with a mixture of awe, fear, and shock.

Stumbling away from her, a look of panic crossed his eyes and he went pale as he searched the room. “I’m gonna throw up!” he bellowed before he turned and fell on his knees, his face planting in the trash behind him as he tossed his cookies.

Unperturbed by the scene, Bulma swallowed and knelt down by him, her trembling hand coming up to rub his back as he vomited. Her mind was a whirlwind of chaos as she took him in, her heart beating and breaking all at once. Her fight or flight instincts were kicking in, while a part of her soared at the thought of the man she had fallen for returning her feelings.

But this wasn’t how she wanted it to happen, not by a long shot.

_I’m toxic_ , she thought sadly.

Her hand smoothed up and down his spine and she leaned up to grab the box of tissues that were placed near the edge of his desk. She handed him one and he took it wordlessly.

A few minutes went by as he dry-heaved before finally, he sat back against her, her chest his resting spot as his head lolled onto her shoulder in relief. Gentle fingers combed through his mane, her breathing the only thing he could hear.

“I’m going to regret this tomorrow,” he spoke abruptly.

Bulma winced. “You won’t be the only one.”

More silence stretched between them as she held him.

“Vegeta?” Her voice was timid.

“Hm?”

“Did you mean it?”

He turned his head to peer at her before looking away. “You know, Bulma.”

She nodded as she rested her cheek against his temple, her fingers a relaxing rhythm against his scalp. The quiet ticking of his clock on the wall reached them, but she paid the time no mind as she held him through the misery.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his ear, pressing her lips against the shell as they trembled with emotion. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

His large hand found her thigh, warm and familiar. She closed her eyes at the feel of it as more tears leaked.

“I know,” he slurred a little. “I’m just a drunken prick right now.”

They sat there a bit longer, basking in each other’s presences for one last time. Bulma was unsure if he would remember tonight and maybe he wouldn’t – a blessing perhaps. But hopefully, he would. Hopefully, he would remember her facing her fears as he faced his, the commitment-phobe and the sex addict coming together, falling together, only to separate for the greater good of them both.

Against her, she felt his breathing level out and sighed. Behind her, the leather couch sat invitingly, and she nudged him. “Come on. You can’t drive home like this.”

He groaned but allowed her to help him stand, his heavily muscular body leaning against hers as she guided him to the sofa. He fell on it ungracefully, huffing as he did so. Bulma made sure to arrange his limbs comfortably before she leaned over his pressed a kiss to his forehead. It wasn’t much, and she wished she could give him more, but it would have to do.

She turned, preparing to leave, before a hand seized her wrist.

Looking back, Vegeta’s bleary eyes gazed up at her, looking more open than they ever had. “Don’t leave me.”

The words were spoken in a command, but Bulma heard the plea and the double meaning. She flinched inwardly as she looked back at the door, her resolve crumbling to follow through with the comings of morning. Instead of making any hasty decision, she crawled in next to him, his arms circling her shoulder and holding her to him in a strong embrace. Her head found it’s place in the crook of his neck and it wasn’t long before Vegeta’s body relaxed and gave in to sleep.

Bulma, however, remained wide awake.

Her eyes were fastened on his now softened features, his mouth parted only slightly as he snored the alcohol from his system. She had never spoken it, but often were the times she would lie awake, watching him in sleep.

His hardened, trimmed edges would also disappear with the darkness and what was left behind in his state of unconsciousness was breathtaking. With every after glow of their lovemaking, Bulma would make sure to remain awake for as long as she could, studying him as he held her, knowing that in the morning, they would have to part before the world awoke.

She turned her head to fix her eyes on the many bottles of alcohol, the abandoned tumbler, and the bourbon on his desk. If they were found tomorrow, Vegeta would inevitably lose his job.

She couldn’t let that happen.

But for now, she would stay beside him and wait, watch, and enjoy his embrace before the new day took her away.


	8. Step Eight: Moving On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [@tpthvegebulsmutfest](http://tpthvegebulsmutfest.tumblr.com) of Fall 2017. 
> 
> Apologies for how long it took me to get this final chapter out. The last few months have been difficult, and on top of life I’ve been really struggling with my depression, and I'm about to have surgery in a week. I’ve had this chapter mostly completed for a long time, but some personal matters happened, and I was forced to put it to the side. I by no means forgot about it, but I do feel incredibly awful that I’ve left it this long to update. So, anyways, here is the final installment to Road to Recovery! I truly hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I enjoyed writing this!
> 
> I’d also like to give a final thank you to GreatRageShortLegs for giving me a swift kick in the ass and lending me a helping hand! This story was commissioned to be finished and she deserves the credit! You are amazing, girl, and I cannot express enough how much I’m grateful! I hope you, and all my readers, enjoy the conclusion! 
> 
> Also, I have a ko-fi page, which I will also be using to gather donations for the Charity! If you want to support me and/or the Charity, stop by and say hi, or whatever, then buy me a coffee!
> 
> Now, onwards to the conclusion
> 
>  
> 
> **WARNING: Story may contain triggers, explicit sex, graphic scenes, and adult language. Read at own risk!**
> 
>  
> 
> _Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own!_

__

**_Bonus Prompts – Day 8: Soft Caress_ | _Day 9: Hair Pulling_**

_…One Year Later…_

Pulling up to the facility that had once housed and attempted to rehabilitate her brought about numerous memories, some more pleasant than others.

Bulma sighed as she parked her car and pulled herself free, her bag hanging by her side as she approached the entrance with sure steps. It had been only three months since her release. Returning to her life had been nothing but paparazzi combined with incorporating herself back into Capsule Corps. Achieving normalcy after spending nearly nine months in rehab was difficult, but in the end, it was worth it.

A few weeks after achieving freedom, Bulma had sat down at dinner with her family, feeling renewed and hopeful. Over the course of dinner, she noticed her parents exchanging looks that had her suspicious. The silence lingered far to long for her liking and she calmly set her fork down to inquire.

“Mom? Dad? Do you have something you want to say to me?”

“What?” Paunchy laughed with a brightly forced smile. “What makes you ask that, sweetie?”

Bulma stared. “Because you and dad have a guilty look on your face and the last time I saw that, I was tossed into rehab! What’s going on?”

Her father cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Dear, we’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

Her face paled. “About what? Do you think I relapsed? I promise you, I haven’t!” She exclaimed quickly.

“No, no!” They both protested.

“It’s just…” Her mother bit her lip. She sighed and left the table for a few moments. Bulma watched her go with a furrowed brow.

“Daddy?” She turned to her father with a worried gaze.

He only smiled and patted her hand reassuringly.

It wasn’t long before her mother returned with the paper in hand, rolled up tightly in her fist. She sat back down and unraveled it, hesitating briefly before sliding it over towards Bulma.

Staring down at the headline, the young heiress wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel.

A large picture of Yamcha peered back at her, his face beaming with pride and adoration. His arms were wrapped around a bounteously curvaceous bluenette who was preening at the camera. Her left hand was spread wide with excitement, the rock on her finger heavy and ghastly.

She swallowed as she read, _Heart Throb Pro Ball Bandit Ties the Knot!_

It took her a second to realize that both were dressed as bride and groom with an altar blurred in the background.

_Boy, he moves fast… But then again, you did too._

“It’s been a few weeks now,” she heard her mother explain. “And I’m sure you were wondering about contacting Yamcha, but…”

Bulma shook her head and pushed the paper away. “No. I wasn’t, actually.”

“Oh,” her parents breathed simultaneously.

Licking her lips, she searched for the words. “He deserves happiness. Especially after what I did. I didn’t have any expectations after I was released.”

Her mother rubbed her arm and they shared a smile. “We’re so proud of you, sweetie!”

Bulma had to force the overwhelming emotions back. “Thanks, Mama.”

“Honestly, though,” her father spoke up. “We wanted to warn you before the paparazzi got wind that you’re out.”

She nodded. “I’m good at dodging.”

 

***

 

So followed the next few months of evading journalist after journalist wanting to get an exclusive with the woman who had once ensnared the heart of the Pro Ball Bandit.

Bulma had treated each question with an air of elegance, even extending her well wishes to the happy couple before making sure to shut down any further developments by pressing forward with positivity about the future of Capsule Corp. She had forgotten how draining it was to be in the public eye.

She had mostly forgotten how hard it was to pretend.

As much as she was relieved to be back to normal (or her deluded sense of normal), she had quickly realized that normal was a thing of the past; something she had abandoned the night she met Vegeta. She didn’t allow herself to think of him much, but on those lonely nights when she laid in bed, it was difficult to push his image away. The ache wasn’t constant anymore, but every now and then it would pop up and make her restless.

Those nights, however, weren’t as difficult as the nights she spent laying in the dark, wide awake, and all alone. It was those nights she focused on how cold her bed was, how empty her room felt, and how hallow she had grown to be inside despite how much she had healed. It was a strange combination that was both painful and relieving.

For months, Bulma carried on as if rehab was merely a black mark on her permanent record – nothing vexatious, nothing to be shameful of. She wasted none of her time with anyone who bothered her with questions about her time within the facility – it was her business. Though, it was a nasty reminder that she had promised to stay in touch with those that remained behind, and she had failed to do so.

Upon returning home one afternoon, Bulma found a white envelop with her name on the countertop of the kitchen. She tossed her keys aside and ripped it open, her eyes skimming over the letter before a frown appeared.

Then, it was followed by a chortle and snort.

A letter from Evelyn was exactly what she needed to give her a swift kick in the ass. That following night, she picked up the phone and called the facility.

“You bitch,” the woman answered with a growl.

Bulma laughed. “Sorry. Dad’s been training me to take over and I got lost in the shuffle.”

“Yeah-huh, that’s a liable excuse for not calling your best friend!”

“Hi Bulma!” someone shouted through the line.

Some whispering ensued. “Chi-Chi and Goku say hi.”

She laughed once more. “I hear. I’m surprised you haven’t killed them, yet.”

“I’m close!” Then, her voice became distant as she said, “She says fuck off, assholes!”

“Lemme talk to her!” Goku’s voice screeched in excitement.

“No! Fuck off, dude!”

The bickering that ensued was nostalgic at best and only served to birth the memories of the time she spent with the trio inside the walls that was once her captivity. Captivity? Safe home, she corrected.

It was a joy, at least, to listen to the squabble and partake in the commentary badgering that was friendly fire. It renewed the smile on her face that had grown to be merely plastic and reserved. She missed this despite the ache it brought to her heart. She was out in the world and they were not. She had made strides and sacrifices but had not bothered to check up on how they had faired in her absence.

She felt guilty, but in contradictory to the feeling, the guilt placed second to the relief that her life had taken a better turn.

It was no contest, and she wouldn’t make it one.

“Goku’s graduating next week,” Evelyn mentioned during a lull.

Bulma perked up. “Oh? That’s great! When?”

“Thursday. That’s kind of why I sent you that letter. I knew you were avoiding us…”

“I wasn’t,” she interrupted quickly.

“No, you were,” Evelyn cut her off at the quick. “I was pissed when I found out you were back home and never called, but if I’m being honest, I’m happy you’re better.”

Bulma hummed and remained silent for several moments before commenting, “Is it really that I’m better? Or maybe I’ve just learned to live with the bullshit?”

Laughter erupted. “Okay, then pessimist!  If that’s how you want to look at it. God! Are you sure they released you at the right time? You sound more like me right now.”

Smiling, Bulma retorted, “Shut up. I’m happy I’m better too. But some days still suck.”

There was no response, and none was needed.

“So…” Evelyn elongated. “Are you gonna come?”

Bulma blushed. “Excuse me?”

“To Goku’s graduation?”

Rolling her eyes, she snorted and sighed, scolding herself for her dirty thought. “Um… I don’t know… Maybe.”

“You’re coming. If you don’t, I’ll break your fucking legs.”

“No, you won’t. That bullshits behind you.”

“I’ll still make the effort.”

Bulma twitched with indecision. “I don’t know, Eve. It depends on work.”

A long sigh reached her ears. “He never joins graduation, Bulma. If that’s what you’re worried about. You won’t see him.”

She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the floor. Minimalizing her daydreams of Vegeta was difficult, and the prospect of potentially crashing into him again brought about a new line of fantasies she’d rather bury. She was afraid of running into him, sure. But she was more afraid of what she would do if she saw him.

“Still,” she replied. “We’ll see. I’m not making promises.”

 

***

 

Thursday came before she knew it, and Bulma found herself standing at the front desk of the facility fiddling with the strap of her purse nervously.

It was surreal as she approached the memory wall near the front. The heels of her boots clicked against the linoleum as she paced along, smiling at the pictures of those who had graduated and left to experience life away from the safety of the world they had built inside these walls. It was both a warm, but painful reminder that Bulma had made the conscious decision to leave and fulfill her recovery elsewhere.

Her picture didn’t exist and Goku’s would be forever immortalized on the board.

What a small thing to feel envious about.

“Ma’am?” A voice called to her.

Bulma twisted to find the young receptionist had finally returned and was smiling pleasantly. “Do you have an appointment to see someone or are you checking in?”

“Oh,” she sighed out. “Um, no… I’m here for Goku’s graduation. Son Goku.”

“I see.” The girl shuffled a few things around and produced a binder. She opened the binder and handed Bulma a pen. “Just sign here and I’ll get your visitors pass ready.”

Bulma nodded and quickly signed her name as the receptionist left once more. It felt even stranger being on the opposite side of the desk. She was a visitor, not a patient.

It was awkward.

When the girl returned once more, she made a show of copying Bulma’s name and removing the sticky slip on the back of the laminate pass. “Okay,” she said as she pressed the pass to Bulma’s shirt. “Just head through that door there and you’ll meet with security for a quick pat down. They’ll show you to the room afterwards.”

Swallowing a bit, Bulma nodded her thanks and ventured inside. The process of the pat down was stiff, and she flashed back to the night she checked herself into the facility. The feeling that she was just another common criminal reared its ugly head, except this time, she was simply showing up for a friend and nothing more.

Things hadn’t changed despite the passage of time.

“This way,” a terse man spoke as he led her down the hall. “No gifts are allowed to the graduates until they’re off property. Keep touching to a minimal, and…”

“I know,” Bulma interrupted gently as she reached the door. Peering inside, she saw a large group of people. Her eyes lingered on Goku who was currently attempting to sneak some frosting and her eyes misted. She handed the man her purse without question.

She didn’t hear the guard leave as she lingered in the doorway. Seeing Goku now was difficult enough and she turned away from the door to lean against the wall, inhaling sharply and exhaling long as panic knotted her stomach.

Her hands remembered touching him, her skin remembered him touching her, and the experience as a whole was wrong. She recalled the incredible need, the uncontrollable urge, and knew no matter how pushy she became, Goku would’ve done what she needed.

So manipulative; she cared little for his regard in the matter and only wanted to satisfy the itch that plagued her inner core.

Times were different now, and she had more of a handle on that horrible need, but had things changed for Goku? Their relationship certainly couldn’t be the same. A phone call proved nothing.

“You can do this,” Bulma told herself. Inhaling deeply once more, she repeated this notion, creating a mantra as she tried to psych herself up into crashing the party. “You _can_ do this!”

“Are you gonna do this any time soon?”

Jumping away from the wall, the heiress turned to see Evelyn with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. The slender girl was now more muscular, but still as thin and tall as she remembered. Her hair was a bit longer now, and although her face still held the sharp edges that warded any unwanted company away, Bulma could see a softness in her eyes.

She frowned. “Walking in there isn’t as easy as just…walking in there, jerk!”

Evelyn rose a brow and took five full steps towards her. “Uh, yeah it is. You move your legs, turn the handle, and march your cute little ass inside. Why is that so hard?”

Looking away, the bluenette muttered, “You know why.”

The blonde leaned around her and peered inside curiously. “Is it Chi-Chi you’re scared of? Can’t honestly blame you there. Girl knows how to talk, I swear its hell just listening to her sometimes.”

Bulma glared and crossed her arms. “You’re being purposefully obtuse.”

Evelyn eyed her up and down with her hip cocked. “Come on,” she said as she gestured with her head.

The young heiress stared at her wordlessly before shifting her gaze to the door. She shook her head and winced. “I don’t think I can.”

“You’re here, Bulma. There’s no point in leaving when you came all this way. Besides, the worst is in your head. Just come inside and see for yourself.”

The girl continued to shake her head and proceeded to back away from the room, worrying her lip between her teeth. Evelyn stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

“I told you, he never comes to graduations. And Goku isn’t pissed at you. We just spoke with you last week! Couldn’t you tell he’s fine?”

“It’s different when you’re in person. I don’t even know what I should say to him,” Bulma protested as she was pushed gently towards the door.

“You say, _‘Congrats Goku’_ and give him a hug?”

“A hug?!”

Evelyn laughed. “Yeah. Hugs and Goku go hand-in-hand. Stupid, I know.” She leaned forward and opened the door. “Now come on, big girl. Let’s go see some old friends and get this sappy shit over with.”

Bulma stared at her before she felt herself laugh as a tear trickled out of the corner of her eye. She wiped it away quickly and smiled. “I really missed you!”

Her friend grinned and shrugged. “I know.”

Taking it pace by pace, Bulma entered the room slowly and saw everyone was preoccupied in conversation and celebration. No one took notice to her entrance and she fidgeted in place. Unsureness wasn’t her area – Bulma was used to being confident and a crowd pleaser. She could handle just about any situation.

As she wracked her mind how to wiggle her way into the tight knit group, Evelyn slammed the door close obnoxiously and shouted, “Hey, look who I found!”

Bulma jumped in place, startled by her outburst, before she blushed when every single eye turned to her. Her breath held, and she swallowed heavily.

“Bulma!” Goku exclaimed in a flurry of excitement. He pushed his way through the crowd and wrapped her up in his arms. His cry of her name was so deafening, she didn’t hear the other’s reaction to her presence. Her ear was pressed to his chest and beneath the warmth, she could hear the steady, but very hyper rhythm of his heart beat.

It made her smile.

“You’re here!” He pulled back and turned to search for something behind him. “Hey, Chi-Chi! Bulma’s here!”

Soon, she was enveloped in another hug, one she was surprised to receive just as much as the one she got from Goku. Chi-Chi’s embrace was tighter, and her mouth ran like a jet engine, but the words that spewed forth were inaudible to the pounding in Bulma’s veins and the liberation she felt.

This felt like forgiveness, and it was very sweet.

When the dark-haired girl pulled back, her smile drifted away into a confused frown.

“What’s wrong?” Chi-Chi asked.

Goku hovered over her shoulder wearing a similar look of concern. He reached forward and softly caressed the side of her cheek, a gesture that had Bulma stiffening and her eyes panickily shifting to his girlfriend. The touch was incredibly intimate, but Chi-Chi repeated the action to the opposite side of her cheek, and that was when Bulma realized she was sobbing.

“Oh shit, girl,” she heard Evelyn scoff from somewhere off to the side. “Couldn’t hold it together for two minutes, huh? I know we’re awesome, but damn I hate water works.”

The sound that tore from Bulma’s throat was a sad excuse of a hybrid between a chortle and a howl as she blubbered her emotions away. She wiped at her face furiously, unable to erase the beaming smile or the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. “I just... I was so afraid to come back, and after everything that’s happened, it didn’t feel right not to, but…” Taking in a shaky breath, she continued. “It’s been a really awful year and it just hit me how much I missed you guys.”

She sniffled a bit more before smiling up at Goku. “Congrats on graduating, Goku!”

The man’s concern ebbed away into a bright, enthusiastic grin, one that melted away Bulma’s fears that their friendship had been ruined. Evelyn had been right, it was all in her head.

 

***

 

The four sat around a long table having just stuffed their stomachs full of cake. Bulma watched as her friends swapped stories of times that didn’t involve her but were still as heartwarming and thrilling to hear. She offered nothing during this moment; it was too bittersweet to ruin with the sound of her voice.

Oddly, her content had settled, and she basked in this rare moment of kinship and companionship. The months after she graduated herself, she amerced herself back into the world of the living as if rehab had merely been a vacation away. Seeing her friends now struggling through recovery brought back her own suffering, and the journey that brought her to this moment.

With those memories came the stolen moments between her and Vegeta and her quiet was now deafening.

Evelyn nudged her.

“Hey,” she called as she waved a hand in front of the heiress’s face. “You even in there?”

Bulma hummed and nodded. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Giving her a knowing look, the blonde stood and pulled her friend along. “Come with me.”

Blinking, the heiress obliged after casting an unsure look at Goku and Chi-Chi. Taking her by the hand, Evelyn eyed Dr. Boardman briefly and waited for the woman to turn her back before sneaking her and Bulma out of the room.

“What, wait! We shouldn’t be doing this!” Bulma protested as she was dragged along.

“Shush!” Evelyn hushed her.

They walked along down the corridor, making several turns before coming up to the nearly empty administration office.

Bulma frowned. “Why’d you bring me here? You’re going to get in trouble!”

“You need to see something.”

Stiffening at those words, it wasn’t difficult to decipher why they were here of all places. Bulma turned her eyes towards the direction of _his_ office and she shook her head violently. “Absolutely not! I don’t think I can.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Trust me. This is something you need to see.”

“Evelyn, no!” Bulma snarled as she was pushed further along. It mattered little, the other woman was much stronger than her. It was plain as day she had spent some time in the community gym and Bulma’s strength was no match for hers.

So, she gave in and walked the last few feet on her own without resistance, but she kept her eyes trained on the floor. She felt nauseous and nervous. At any moment, the door would open, and she would hear his accented voice call her name.

Would it be in disgust? Would it be in revelation?

Would he dismiss her or hug her?

If she were truly honest with herself, he would probably walk passed her as if she didn’t exist and carry about his day. She didn’t bother saying goodbye to him the morning she left. She had simply gotten up from the couch, cleaned up his office before the morning shift arrived, and placed one final kiss on his forehead while he slumbered on. When she quietly made her exit, the urge to return to his side was more powerful than ever, and that was enough to tell her that she needed to leave.

Upon returning to her dorm, Bulma silently gathered her things, making sure not to wake Chi-Chi as she did. Before she left, she scribbled some words on a piece of paper and took a detour towards the front. Stopping at a door, she took a deep breath and shoved the paper beneath the doorway before scrounging what little courage she had to finally move on.

So she left, and she didn’t look back.

She left with his confession in her pocket and her confession buried deep inside herself.

Did he still love her?

“Bulma, I didn’t bring you here to stare at the floor.”

Bulma sighed and closed her eyes.

 _I will walk through my fear_ , she repeated in her mind before she raised her head to face the door, readying herself for the ultimate reunion, no matter the painful outcome it would surely bring.

But when she approached the door, she frowned and reared back.

_Dr. Angel Whis, MD_

“What?”

“Remember how I said he never comes to graduations?” Evelyn approached her side slowly with her eyes trained on the door as well. “About two months after you left, he resigned. It was completely out of the blue and no one would say why, but I was there when it happened.”

Bulma stared in shock at the door as she listened to Evelyn explain how Vegeta had came into work one morning with a white envelop in hand and his briefcase missing. Instead of sticking to his typical routine of grabbing coffee and his first case file of the day before retreating to his office, he made a beeline for the directors’ office and didn’t bother shutting the door behind him.

From there, he sat the envelop down and announced his resignation, effective immediately, stating he felt unfit for the position. When the director protested, Vegeta had shouted, “I refuse to ruin another patient’s recovery! I quit!”

It was rumored that when he came in that morning, his body reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were bleary, red, and sunken in. He had a five o’clock shadow, and several stains marred his clothing, suggesting he hadn’t bothered to change, clean, or do laundry.

Boardman had been nearby with Evelyn, discussing a matter or two, and witnessed the exchange as Vegeta turned about-face and left. As he did so, in his back pocket, the young blonde saw a flask peeking out, and she stared in disbelief as the man who had always seemed to have everything together, had left in complete tatters.

“I haven’t heard anything about him since. We all ask Boardman every now and then, since she used to date him, but even she hasn’t heard from him.”

Bulma exhaled shakily as she felt a slip of paper slide into her palm. She glanced down to see a series of numbers and letters scribbled on the white sheet, making up an address. She gazed at Evelyn in confusion.

The woman shrugged. “I have my ways. This was the other reason why I wanted you here. I figured you’d want to know, and now that you’re out…maybe you might want to check in on him.”

“What? Why?” Bulma asked in a rush.

Her friend cocked a brow. “You know why.”

“I shouldn’t,” she refused with a shake of her head. She tried to hand the paper back, but Evelyn stepped away.

“You should. You love him. It wouldn’t hurt to just check to see if he’s okay. It’s not a commitment of marriage, Bulma! It’s just…genuine concern of a friend!”

Fiddling with the piece of paper was the only thing she could manage to do. “I just don’t think it’s something I can do. I just got my life back together. I can’t take on someone else’s recovery.”

Evelyn sighed heavily and took her friend by the arms. “You don’t even know if he’s in recovery. We don’t know if he’s even an alcoholic. But what you do know is something is wrong. And right now, he could probably use a friend.”

Bulma stood there in deep thought, weighing her options. Finally, she shook her head. “I can’t.” Glancing up, she shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

Handing back the paper, Bulma turned and began to make her way towards the entrance, her intent clear, but Evelyn’s next words had her pausing.

“He tried to help you, Bulma. He was the first one in this god-awful place that tried to help you and it turned out to be a disaster. But look where it got you.”

Bulma scoffed. “Heartbreak and regret?” she replied bitterly.

“You got your life back. Heartbreak and regret just happen to be part of the experience of recovery.”

Her head shook. “The things I did to him… He wouldn’t want to see me.”

“How do you know if you won’t try?” When she never answered, Evelyn sighed. “What are you so afraid of?”

The silence stretched and Bulma could feel the words that resembled her fear lodge in her throat. She heard the girl approach her from behind, her voice drawing near.

“I know you left to help him—”

“I left for me,” Bulma corrected firmly.

“And for him,” her friend reminded her. “You left me a note telling me this. Remember? ‘ _Tell him I’m sorry for the pain I caused. Tell him this is for the good of us both.’”_

Her eyes squeezed shut at the reminder of the words she scrawled on the note she placed beneath the doorway. It was the only way she felt was safe to say goodbye to Vegeta without directly saying goodbye. She knew if she had done it herself, she would’ve lost the strength to continue with her recovery.

She would’ve ruined them both.

“I didn’t tell him,” Evelyn said.

Bulma twisted with an angry brow. “What?”

“It’s not my message to give.” Taking her hand, Evelyn shoved the address back into Bulma’s palm and stated firmly, “Go apologize yourself. It means nothing if it doesn’t come from you.”

 

***

 

And that’s how Bulma found herself sitting in her car outside a beautiful house. The car remained in idle, and she felt frozen to her seat as she contemplated how she even arrived here.

Oh right.

Evelyn.

 _“It means nothing if it doesn’t come from you,”_ she had said in that stern tone. She was right. It was cowardly of Bulma to pass off her apology as if it meant nothing. It was her fear that got in the way. She didn’t want to see his face or experience the rejection. The pain of leaving was already great enough, she didn’t want to add to it.

It was selfish.

His house was nowhere near the size of hers, but it was still beautiful and large – a testament to the salary he no longer had. Bulma rapped her fingers against her steering wheel and bit her lip.

Only one light was on in the entire house, but for all she knew it could’ve been an overhead light for security. It was late in the evening; he could be in bed.

Yes. It would be rude to wake him.

Her hand slid to the shift lever and she gripped it but didn’t move. Her eyes lingered on the light that shone through the window on the first story. There was immense reluctancy in her as she grimaced before finally shifting the car into gear and turning in her seat, ready to back out of the driveway.

As she did so, she paused.

 _You’re such a coward_ , her conscience snarled. _You ran from Yamcha and now you’re running from Vegeta._

Facing forward once more, Bulma rested her forehead on her steering wheel and let out a breath.

“Just do it,” she muttered quietly. “Grow some balls and do it.”

Feeling sick to her stomach, Bulma shifted the car back into drive and pressed forward further in his driveway, parking her car near the entrance to his house. She inhaled deeply as she unbuckled herself and grabbed her bag, lifting the strap over her head before exiting her vehicle. Closing the door gently behind her, Bulma eyed his front door as she fiddled with the strap of her purse, her feet carrying her up the steps without her permission.

Swallowing, her finger reached for the doorbell and her chin bent towards her chest as she peered down at the welcome mat that was simply gray and plain. There was no pattern in the fibers, but anything was easier to look at than the door that was currently opening or the pair of legs that appeared in her line of sight.

“Bulma?” She heard her name breathed out in barely concealed shock; his voice was raspy and gruff, but the accent was still as present as ever, and still as sexy as she remembered.

Bulma licked her lips and raised her head to meet his eyes.

Unlike Evelyn’s description of his five o’clock shadow, the Vegeta now was clean shaven. His hair had been cut recently and his features looked sharper, firmer, even a bit angrier than she was used to. He was dressed in a black wife beater and gray loose pajama bottoms. His tan skin was on display, his muscles more prominent than before and his body toned.

Despite how much he changed, Bulma paid no attention to any of it.

She stared at him like a deer trapped in headlights. Her hands gripped the strap of her purse like her life depended on it, and her heart was beating so hard she felt lightheaded.

Her mouth opened and closed once, then twice, before she stuttered out, “H-hi. Hi Vegeta…”

Vegeta made no move towards her, and thankfully he didn’t slam the door close in her face like she anticipated. He stood there in bemusement and skepticism, and Bulma felt very unsure.

Neither spoke and the awkward silence stretched before it became so unbearable, she couldn’t keep herself from running at the mouth.

“So, how are you? You look good… I mean,” she winced. “Not that I’m hitting on you or anything, I just…” Bulma sighed painfully. “I was just in the neighborhood and I thought… Well no, actually I wasn’t, but I had your address and I couldn’t not...” She paused as her words played back in her head and her eyes widened in horror. “Not that I’m stalking you or anything! God!” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please interrupt at anytime and end my misery.”

He didn’t.

He stood there, taking her in, watching her struggle and offered no words of comfort and reassurance to abate her doubt and insecurity. It was infuriating to say the least, but just like him.

Oddly enough, it was comforting, and yet it wasn’t.

Bulma shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry to have bothered you…”

Turning to leave, she made her way down three of his steps before he finally spoke.

“Do you want to come in?”

Pivoting fast, she peered up at him in surprise, seeing he was holding the door open for her expectantly. Her mouth was hung open briefly before she cleared her throat and nodded politely.

The inside of his house was even more gorgeous than the outside, and immaculate to boot. Everything was neatly organized with clean lines, neutral colors that flattered the décor, and soft lightening for ambience. The house was relatively modern, and she twisted in a circle to see his walls littered with a variety of abstract paintings that were tasteful and beautiful.

She had no idea he had such taste.

When he passed her, Bulma followed and said, “Your house is lovely.”

“Hmm,” he hummed as he led her into the den. “Would you like a drink?”

Pulling her eyes away from more of his art, she gazed at him and shook her head. “Oh, uh… Aren’t you… I mean…”

He stared at her over his shoulder, his body turned partially to face her as he headed for the kitchen.

“Am I what?”

Bulma shrugged. “Nothing,” she lied with a polite smile. “What do you have?”

“What every person has in their kitchen,” he replied sarcastically. “Just tell me what you want.”

He was being incredibly terse, but Bulma had grown use to his variations in tone while under his care and tried to tell herself this was just who he was. But now that things were different, she wasn’t sure if he was being purposefully cold or not.

“Water, please,” she answered finally, and he disappeared into the kitchen.

In the distance, she heard clinking and shuffling as he moved about, and while he did so, she walked around the living area with her arms crossed, taking in his various knick-knacks and noticing he had no pictures of family or friends. It was heartbreaking, and she wondered if he even had any family to photograph and memorialize.

Coming up along a glass shelf, she peered inside and saw a collection of golden trophies from sports, plaques and awards from school and tournaments, and a velvet booklet that was open on a plastic easel. Nestle inside the booklet were a series of colorful coins, but upon closer inspection, they weren't coins at all.

“To thine own self, be true,” she read quietly as she took in the numbers on each one.

Her eyes widened when recognition kicked in.

They were AA chips. Twenty-four hours, thirty days, two months, three months…

Her eyes watered with unshed tears and she brought a hand up to wipe them away. How long, she wondered? How long had he suffered alone? How long had he gone through recovery without support?

Just how long?

“Here.”

Bulma flinched at his sudden reappearance and had no time to pull herself together as she took the glass of water and swallowed several mouthfuls. It was needed; her throat felt parch and dry.

Over the rim of her cup, she saw him watching her closely; his eyes shifting between her and the glass case repeatedly before they narrowed. He stepped away, maintaining distance, and took a seat on the edge of the couch.

“Just ask, Bulma. I can see its bothering you,” Vegeta announced perceptively with a defeated sigh.

Bulma licked her lips and fiddled with her drink as she casted one look back at the chips. Finally, she relented. “How long have you been sober?”

“Which time?” He responded as he sat his dark drink down on a coaster.

Shocked, Bulma eyed the dark liquid worriedly as she hovered near the corner by the shelf. Her brow furrowed deeply. “Vegeta…” she murmured softly. “Are you…?”

He took a healthy drink of the contents in his glass and gazed up at her nonchalant-like. “Am I what? Drunk?” The corners of his eyes tightened, and he twirled his glass up and said, “It’s blackberry iced tea.”

“Oh,” she nodded. “Good. That’s good.”

“What are you doing here, Bulma?” He got straight to the point, his eyes pinning her to the spot as he demanded answers.  “I thought you’d be halfway up the chain of command at your father’s company by now, not taking trips down memory lane.”

He watched her as she paced along the room, her thumb rubbing away the condensation on her glass absentmindedly. She looked lost in thought for a second.

“Goku graduated today,” she finally told him.

Vegeta chuckled. “Well, well, well. The clown finally got the balls to talk to his brother.”

She blinked and frowned. “How do you know that’s why he graduated?”

Sitting back, he crossed his legs and smirked. “I was his psychologist for four years. Kid had some serious resentment issues.”

That was news. After everything she did to him, Goku had never once portrayed an ounce of resentment towards her.

It was difficult to imagine.

She nodded slowly, accepting his answer as she sipped from her water once more.

“You never answered my question.”

“Hm?” she hummed in question as she cocked a brow.

Vegeta stared at her knowingly. “You deflected by telling me about the idiot’s graduation.”

“Don’t call him an idiot,” Bulma scolded with a frown.

He pointed at her as he leaned forward. “You’re doing it again. And he is an idiot.”

“He was your patient!”

“So were you,” Vegeta reminded her solemnly. “That didn’t stop things from happening between us, just like it doesn’t stop me from disliking him. Except with him, I was able to sever the ties between my feelings and my job.” He rested his arms on his knees. “So, I ask you again, Bulma. What are you doing here?”

She glared at him; the spite, the rage, the sheer anger in her eyes prevalent to the regret of her actions while under his care. So, instead of speaking on those regrets and offering him what he deserved, Bulma retaliated.

“Why’d you leave your job?” Her words cut through the air like knives and immediately, she wished she could take them back. It was like throwing his mistake in his face and stomping all over it without care.

Placing a hand over her eyes, she sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, that was low…”

“Is that why you’re here? Because you wanted to know why I left?”

Her eyes snapped open, as did her mouth, but nothing short of any kind of sound emitted forth to produce words that confirmed or denied this.

There was a sound of displeasure and fabric rubbing against fabric as he stood. The way he moved told her he was ready to walk her out, having had enough of this unhelpful exchange and Bulma felt her panic rise as he took a step towards the door.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted when he moved. “I’m sorry…for everything I did. For hurting you, for putting you in the position I put you in. For what you saw. For everything.” Rubbing her arms, Bulma lifted her now wet gaze to his and finally added, “I just wanted to apologize. That’s all.”

He was unreadable to her and it made her incredibly uncomfortable. She sniffled and sat her glass down on the coffee table. She grabbed hold of her purse strap once more. A nervous habit.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Well, that’s what I wanted to do, and I did it. I don’t expect your forgiveness, and I don’t frankly deserve it. But I owed you more than an apology and an apology is all I can really offer. So, I’ll let you get back to…life…and I won’t bother you again.”

Silently, she pleaded for him to say something as she pressed forward to leave, the heels of her boots clicking against his hardwood floors as she passed him by and headed for the door. Part of her hoped he would grab her arm and prevent her from leaving, but he never did. He remained statue-like; immobile and frozen. Whether it was from shock or relief that she was leaving, she was unsure.

Bulma pulled open his door and cast one final look back at him to see he hadn’t left his spot, his back now to her. Her gaze lingered with longing briefly, but she reminded herself it was no longer her place to have such desires of him. The memories of their time together would have to suffice as company in his absence.

With those memories at the forefront of her mind, the compulsion to confess was too great to ignore. It was a heavy burden in her pocket that she didn’t want to carry any longer.

It was time to tell him.

“You know, I have a lot of regrets. _A lot…_ ” She scoffed a laugh that was acidic at the irony. “But I want you to know that even though it was wrong what you and I did… I don’t regret us. I don’t regret you. Or what we had. Loving you, for me, was never wrong. Actually, nothing felt more right.”

There was no reaction, not that she expected one.

With a heavy heart, Bulma shut the door behind her and approached her car. It was hard keeping the tears at bay; she refused to cry while she was here. She would cry when she got home, safely tucked away in her bed.

A shaky breath left her as she buckled herself in, her hands at an even ten and two as she sat, sunken, in her seat. Rubbing her nose, Bulma went to turn the keys in the ignition when a quick rapping of knuckles on the window had her screaming in fright.

Vegeta stood beyond the door, bent at the waist and peering inside at her. Rolling the window down slowly, Bulma scowled at him in puzzlement.

“What…”

He reached inside wordlessly, his fingers combing into her hair and tugging at the tresses as he brought their faces close. Before she knew what was happening, their lips met, and her heart stuttered to a near halt. It had been over a year since she felt his kisses; she had nearly forgotten how intense and consuming they were.

His lips were softer than she remembered; everything else about his was hard and sturdy, but not those. They softly caressed her skin like butterfly wings, each stroke and press bring more desperate need and whispering secrets he would never tell her out loud.

Unable to resist, Bulma cradled his jaw and gave in to the sweet sensation. Everything melted away and all that was left was him and her, and the feel of his hands pulling at her hair and her fingers scrapping along his chin.

She wasn’t sure who it was that ended it, but when they pulled away from one another with breathless puffs, Bulma’s heavy lidded eyes stared up at him in astonishment. He was looking at her with a mixture of emotions so great and so foreign on him, it left her speechless.

“Vegeta, I…” She trailed off.

Their foreheads pressed together, and she could feel his warm breath on her cheeks.

“Come back inside,” he whispered to her low. “Stay.”

Hearing the husky undertones made her insides ache in that familiar, scary way. Bulma wanted nothing more than to stay; her body screamed at her to take her keys and toss them in the darkness of the night before crawling into bed with him; recovery be damned. Every little hormone in her body was going haywire, firing with acceptance as they screamed for her to do it. The sex would be worth it, she would wake up satisfied in more ways than one, possibly sore, and more than ready to go again.

She just had to step foot out of the car and take him in hand.

“I can’t,” her mouth said instead.

Vegeta sighed, but he didn’t protest. His hands merely tugged at her hair for only a second before he let go with a kiss pressed to her forehead.

Bulma held back a whimper. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” she began.

“I understand,” he murmured against her skin. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Fisting his shirt, she held him in place and peered up at him with wide, wet eyes. “I’m just not ready yet. I need time.”

He nodded and stroked her cheek with a soft caress before taking her hand and laying a gentle kiss on her knuckles. It was completely out of character, but it still had her melting and aching for more.

“Dinner?” he asked out of the blue.

Bulma couldn’t stop the befuddle laugh that bubbled up. “You’re asking me to dinner? Really?”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “Something funny, Miss Briefs?”

She smiled and cut her chortle off with a small shake of her head. “No. Just surprised.”

When a few moments passed where neither said a peep, Vegeta cocked a brow expectantly. “Well?”

Sliding her hand out of his, Bulma grinned and twisted the key in the ignition and started the car. As she did so, Vegeta pulled himself up, but he remained near the window, a small smirk playing on his lips in answer to her own.

“How about I call you?”

He pursed his lips and his jaw twitched. “Is this a funny way of saying yes?”

Putting the car in gear, Bulma pressed on the brake and said, “This is us taking it slow. It’s been a while since I’ve gone the old fashion route.”

“The old fashion route sounds very slow,” he stated with a slight twinkle to his eyes.

She shrugged. “It might be nice. Are you okay with that?”

He sighed dramatically and shoved his hands in the pockets of his pajama bottoms. “I have to be honest. I’m not exactly patient.”

Giggling, she slowly began to roll her window up. “That’s fine. I’m not either.”

As she pulled out of his driveway with him standing in her headlights, Bulma couldn’t help but feel as though she had finally begun to move on. The road to recovery had been filled with tremendous hurtles that were painful and excruciating, but at the end of it all, she could honestly say it was all worth it. It didn’t mean it was over.

No. Her recovery was only beginning.

 

_fin_


End file.
